John Battelle’s Search offers a fascinating look at the modern search engine, its inner workings, and how it just might be taking over global culture as we know it. Although at times some of his futuristic aspirations seem a bit overdramatic and his political views over apparent, the book provides insight for the layperson on how such an intricate system works – both the computer science and business aspects behind it, providing clear explanation of complex subjects. As someone who hates science and business, the book was nevertheless an easy and understandable read – quite a feat for any author writing on such subjects.
In the beginning of the book, Battelle makes the analogy of Google being like a reference librarian. Noting that the search could well become “Hal, the intelligent but creepy computer doppelganger of Stanley Kubricks 2001: A Space Odyssey” (9). Under this description of the search, the user actually develops a kind of relationship with it as it guides them to the information they want and need. However, like all relationships, when the more humanizing elements drop out of it, the relationship does not work as well. Hence, I question whether Google or any related search engine can ever match up to the reference librarian… and I doubt it. Even when users are familiar with the working of a library – whether it be a public library, research library, or even the more detailed aspects of a library like searching the catalog or online database – the librarian acts as helpful guide. Unlike the search who cannot ask the user for clarification, the librarian and library patron can work together to best determine what exactly the patron needs. Now, this is not to bash Google or Battelle, for the search is an essential tool of both the librarian and seeker of knowledge, but I would not set them as equals. Interestingly, though, Google and the library do not claim very different purposes. A comparison of their mission statements reveals a common goal:
“Google's mission is to organize the world's information and make it universally accessible and useful.”
“We welcome and support all people in their enjoyment of reaindg and pursuit of lifelong learning. Working together, we strive to provide equal access to information, ideas and knowledge through books, programs and other resources. We believe in the freedom to read, to learn, and to discover.” –Mission of the Chicago Public Library
At their core, these missions represent a fundamental similarity. While the library mission seems a bit more interactive and certainly must be more concerned with accountability, both otherwise provide a similar service.
Google and the search, however, present a bit more of controversy than does your local public library. Google’s motto of “Don’t Be Evil” and the notion of social responsibility factor largely into its corporate model. The public places a good deal (perhaps too much) of trust in Google not to share its information in inappropriate ways. The searches entered every second into Google provide the “Database of Intentions” reveal our personal hopes and desired, a “living artifact of immense power” (2). Although “Don’t be evil” may seem straightforward in the conference room of a small company, but it is quite another when your business becomes a global phenomenon of information access (139). The private Amerian user with Google Desktop concerned about his privacy rights is a separate issue altogether once bigger fish are involved. The China controversy made Google realize that “the unwritten laws of the free market do not provide a mechanism to reconcile the true cost of social responsibility with the fundamental need to be profitable” (205). By giving in to the Chinese government’s demands of some degree of censorship, many felt Google was becoming an accessory to such an evil. Balancing corporate well-being and social responsibility remains a daunting task with many complications. Similarly, in the post-2001 era, the question of privacy was redefined by the USA PATRIOT Act. I think Battelle lets his political views shine through way too much in this section while never coming near such a tone when any other company or user could equally access your information, but he nevertheless raises a valid concern. As Google contends that they only share private information when “reasonably necessary,” such a decision is out of their hands when requested by the government under the PATRIOT Act (203). Your private information just became that much more vulnerable. Now, granted, I think a large chunk of the American public overreacts too much to the PATRIOT ACT (when their concern is not constitutional but rather fearful), but the fact that the government can (potentially, not definitely) access your personal information via “request to your ISP, your community library, or other service provider” unquestionably sheds light on the susceptibility of your private information (199).
In today’s ever-digitalizing world, exposure is becoming more and more unavoidable. Google has defined what the search is; the two words can essentially be used interchangeably. Google has been able to bring search results quicker than most other programs, but expanding information to more people worldwide has its costs. As Google sorts out the ethics and concerns that face the everyday corporate giant, librarians should start learning from Google, and learning about it. Battelle provides a layman’s guide to the search engine crawler, and as the Database of Intentions continues to captivate our world, the librarian cannot afford to miss out on this valuable – and eventually essential – tool.
Thursday, May 8, 2008
Monday, May 5, 2008
Articles for 22 April
Wright
One of the most striking points brought up in Wright’s chapter was the idea of a third dimension within documents and knowledge sharing. The third dimension he defines through Paul Otlet as “their relationship to place, time, language as well as other readers, writers, and topics.” Referencing the practical importance of search and retrieval performance, Otlet practically predicts the basic idea of Google, though under his prediction trained staff would need to perform the search. Still, while the predicted systems differed in many ways, the problems they present (or potentially could have presented) remain similar. But, the relationships between documents today through applications like Google lose their third dimension – they discover the relationships between documents but they remain largely unexposed to the end user who never knows these complicated algorithms defining such relationships. Instead, the documents stand alone in a two-dimensional world without its third dimension. Although the rhetoric of this can get a bit heavy and philosophical for something like technology, such rhetoric exists today and is present in next week’s reading as well. Either way, it gets the point across. And today, technology complaints indicate that users WANT the third dimension – they do not want to be kept in the dark.
Just like Bush’s memex, the third dimension could help externalize a reader’s thought process just like the associative trails. This is, after all, the first step to establishing the third dimension of document relationships to its readers. Still, this technology brings up an important point. Bush suggests the possibility of “smarter machines that could anticipate our needs and adapt themselves… like good servants.” But, as many fiction pieces about technology’s future warn, something like that could get out of control and end up for the worse. Moreover, the changing nature of authorship today with all of the Web’s possibilities has found us in a legal jam not quite knowing what to do. The very definition of intellectual property has been called into question with programs like Napster and YouTube. Still, ordinary citizens outside this technological hierarchy are taking the Web back. The explosion of blogging, photo sharing, and other forms of personal expression have taken out the professional element in the Web and made it more accessible to the average user. Users of blogs can create their own associative trails by creating tags to their entries. Users can share music and see who has downloaded the same songs. Postmodern theory states that there is no such thing as “original” – that everything is plagiarized because in one form or another all works borrow from elements of other works. The concept of universal authorship and the postmodern definition are becoming today’s reality.
D’Elia et. al
This article was admittedly difficult to read due to its statistical nature, especially coming after a 40-page article, but it was interesting nonetheless. While some aspects seemed to be obvious results, the questions need to be asked anyway to establish it officially. For example, the fact that those with higher income were more likely to use the Internet and the library does not seem overly surprising. Based on many of the readings we have read for this class, the library’s mission of serving “all people” and being the “poor man’s university” were obviously in rhetoric only and did not really carry over to reality.
Still, statistical analyses should be read with caution. John Zaller, political scientist, argues in a classic piece that survey responses do not necessarily reflect true attitude statements, but most of the time are more likely short-term opinion statements. The model Zaller produces to defend this statement involves taking thoughts or bits of information at the top of the respondent’s head. The response that comes out, therefore, is an averaging of all immediately accessible thoughts at the top of one’s head. So, if a respondent were to say they use the internet to make purchases, perhaps they just recently made a purchase but do not usually do so via the Internet. In this case, the purchase would be at the top of the respondent’s head and used in the response, but may not reflect a true long-term attitude. Zaller goes on to discuss the wording and rhetoric of surveys. It is good that the authors of this library survey include the question and answer wording, since they can have large impacts on the readers response. By using certain words, it will cause activation of certain thoughts at the top of the respondent’s head related to the word, and therefore may bring up responses that again do not reflect long-term attitudes. The survey is insightful, but perhaps jumps to conclusions too quickly. The authors in their discussion seem to accept the technology integration into the library as all too encompassing. Another interesting point relating back to the other week’s readings is that the consumer market for Internet and library are increasing. This survey should invalidate to some degree previous article’s claim of the detrimental effect of commercializing the library. While it may not be the most rosy option, the need for it is brought to the forefront in this article.
Hafner
I loved reading this article, because I have heard so many utterances of the Google Book Project but finally got to read something concrete. I was surprised to read that the project was partnered with a librarian, since besides publishers much talk has been of how the project might diminish librarian work as well. If anything, this gives credibility to the project and its purpose. Still, the fight of access vs. ownership comes up in this controversy. The library feels they should provide access to whatever information for all patrons, which goes along with the Google Book Project’s goal, but the intellectual property ownership and copyright laws say otherwise. Verba makes an interesting point, though, that the project’s showing small excerpts could lead more readers to an author’s book. This point stuck with me, because a lot of times when I am doing research, I just want something specific – like a quotation – out of a book, but I have no idea what books might contain what I’m looking for. The project would bring me to many more books I wouldn’t have otherwise known about. Besides, when people want books for researching purposes, they usually will not go out and buy it. Especially when books are old/rare or academic, they can cost hundreds of dollars and I have no such interest in spending that on a simple quotation – or anything for that matter. I wonder if this really would be detrimental to authors and publishers, and I almost think it wouldn’t. Most people probably wouldn’t replace going to the bookstore with the Google Book Project, but rather a trip to the library. If they check something out from the library, the author is not making money anyway. So the effect would probably be negligent.
Grafton
In discussing digitization and its contents, the end of the article (or the second article? Not really sure) looks to different archives that exist already. With a subscription to a few databases, almost every article becomes available to the subscriber. However, Grafton points out how few books are in libraries especially in countries like India or Argentina, and how Google’s book Project would increase access to books in poor countries that might otherwise be without it. The issue of access comes to mind as an historic issue in the library profession. The hindrance of the project questions whether the poor should have access to books and resources that the wealthy can easily afford? Money should not block information access, and it doesn’t have to. One can simply go to the library and get whatever they need. If this option exists, what is the difference if the Google Book Project and ones like it exist? At the same time, though, outside the United States this might not be as possible. The problem is similar to the controversy facing the One Laptop per Child campaign (OLPC), which hopes to send cheap laptops to poor African countries to help them fight poverty and come in to the modern world. However, critics argue that people are donating $200 to send a child a laptop when much graver problems exist that should be solved first – like hunger. So, the argument may not hold so well for third-world countries, but for the United States it holds strong. The archiving of records and documents has been around since before the common era, so archiving books in the digital world should not seem like such a shocking controversy. The National Archives of the U.S. have uploaded many documents to the digital world, and Thomas Jefferson isn’t complaining from the grave. Perhaps contemporary authors should take a hint. Either way, it is clear that the law cannot keep up with the technological world, as lawsuits become more and more common over copyright and intellectual property.
Frischer
When I started reading this article I had to go back in the reader to check the date of publication – 2002! This sounded more like something that would come out of a 1970’s future prediction or some kind of science fiction novel. Frischer’s idea of a digital theater in the research library seemed a little bit extreme for 2002 and I am surprised that he thought this could be feasible within just ten years. At the beginning of the article I was glad to hear someone advocating the permanence of libraries and research libraries in the digital age, but the article just got somewhat bizarre as I read on. I do not understand why this digital theater was so important to his library future vision, but it just seems unpractical. Going back to the Public Library Inquiry, libraries in modern history (and before that, really) are in need of increased funding constantly which they cannot quite seem to procure. The state of Wisconsin, for example, only provides 8% of the library’s needs with petition and legislation needed each year to INCREASE funding just to maintain that 8%. When library funding is so problematic to begin with, Frisher’s digital theater just seems unreasonable. Even within the university libraries, universities face so many budgeting issues to start with, that implementing a program like that which wouldn’t really produce profit might be out of the question.
Plus it brings up some questions in the education realm. If they are recreating this virtual scene for the purposes of accurate historical study, who will review it? Will there be standards for such theaters and will they be enforced? Who will check the accuracy of it? In order to build it, architects would have to use the same information that would be found in a research library today (books!) and researchers still would not be able to see the background information that went into this construction, necessitating again the need for a regular, print research library. It has been six years since Frischer wrote this article, and while we are no closer to developing such a virtual reality theater, the print research library is still going strong and probably will continue to do so in 2012.
One of the most striking points brought up in Wright’s chapter was the idea of a third dimension within documents and knowledge sharing. The third dimension he defines through Paul Otlet as “their relationship to place, time, language as well as other readers, writers, and topics.” Referencing the practical importance of search and retrieval performance, Otlet practically predicts the basic idea of Google, though under his prediction trained staff would need to perform the search. Still, while the predicted systems differed in many ways, the problems they present (or potentially could have presented) remain similar. But, the relationships between documents today through applications like Google lose their third dimension – they discover the relationships between documents but they remain largely unexposed to the end user who never knows these complicated algorithms defining such relationships. Instead, the documents stand alone in a two-dimensional world without its third dimension. Although the rhetoric of this can get a bit heavy and philosophical for something like technology, such rhetoric exists today and is present in next week’s reading as well. Either way, it gets the point across. And today, technology complaints indicate that users WANT the third dimension – they do not want to be kept in the dark.
Just like Bush’s memex, the third dimension could help externalize a reader’s thought process just like the associative trails. This is, after all, the first step to establishing the third dimension of document relationships to its readers. Still, this technology brings up an important point. Bush suggests the possibility of “smarter machines that could anticipate our needs and adapt themselves… like good servants.” But, as many fiction pieces about technology’s future warn, something like that could get out of control and end up for the worse. Moreover, the changing nature of authorship today with all of the Web’s possibilities has found us in a legal jam not quite knowing what to do. The very definition of intellectual property has been called into question with programs like Napster and YouTube. Still, ordinary citizens outside this technological hierarchy are taking the Web back. The explosion of blogging, photo sharing, and other forms of personal expression have taken out the professional element in the Web and made it more accessible to the average user. Users of blogs can create their own associative trails by creating tags to their entries. Users can share music and see who has downloaded the same songs. Postmodern theory states that there is no such thing as “original” – that everything is plagiarized because in one form or another all works borrow from elements of other works. The concept of universal authorship and the postmodern definition are becoming today’s reality.
D’Elia et. al
This article was admittedly difficult to read due to its statistical nature, especially coming after a 40-page article, but it was interesting nonetheless. While some aspects seemed to be obvious results, the questions need to be asked anyway to establish it officially. For example, the fact that those with higher income were more likely to use the Internet and the library does not seem overly surprising. Based on many of the readings we have read for this class, the library’s mission of serving “all people” and being the “poor man’s university” were obviously in rhetoric only and did not really carry over to reality.
Still, statistical analyses should be read with caution. John Zaller, political scientist, argues in a classic piece that survey responses do not necessarily reflect true attitude statements, but most of the time are more likely short-term opinion statements. The model Zaller produces to defend this statement involves taking thoughts or bits of information at the top of the respondent’s head. The response that comes out, therefore, is an averaging of all immediately accessible thoughts at the top of one’s head. So, if a respondent were to say they use the internet to make purchases, perhaps they just recently made a purchase but do not usually do so via the Internet. In this case, the purchase would be at the top of the respondent’s head and used in the response, but may not reflect a true long-term attitude. Zaller goes on to discuss the wording and rhetoric of surveys. It is good that the authors of this library survey include the question and answer wording, since they can have large impacts on the readers response. By using certain words, it will cause activation of certain thoughts at the top of the respondent’s head related to the word, and therefore may bring up responses that again do not reflect long-term attitudes. The survey is insightful, but perhaps jumps to conclusions too quickly. The authors in their discussion seem to accept the technology integration into the library as all too encompassing. Another interesting point relating back to the other week’s readings is that the consumer market for Internet and library are increasing. This survey should invalidate to some degree previous article’s claim of the detrimental effect of commercializing the library. While it may not be the most rosy option, the need for it is brought to the forefront in this article.
Hafner
I loved reading this article, because I have heard so many utterances of the Google Book Project but finally got to read something concrete. I was surprised to read that the project was partnered with a librarian, since besides publishers much talk has been of how the project might diminish librarian work as well. If anything, this gives credibility to the project and its purpose. Still, the fight of access vs. ownership comes up in this controversy. The library feels they should provide access to whatever information for all patrons, which goes along with the Google Book Project’s goal, but the intellectual property ownership and copyright laws say otherwise. Verba makes an interesting point, though, that the project’s showing small excerpts could lead more readers to an author’s book. This point stuck with me, because a lot of times when I am doing research, I just want something specific – like a quotation – out of a book, but I have no idea what books might contain what I’m looking for. The project would bring me to many more books I wouldn’t have otherwise known about. Besides, when people want books for researching purposes, they usually will not go out and buy it. Especially when books are old/rare or academic, they can cost hundreds of dollars and I have no such interest in spending that on a simple quotation – or anything for that matter. I wonder if this really would be detrimental to authors and publishers, and I almost think it wouldn’t. Most people probably wouldn’t replace going to the bookstore with the Google Book Project, but rather a trip to the library. If they check something out from the library, the author is not making money anyway. So the effect would probably be negligent.
Grafton
In discussing digitization and its contents, the end of the article (or the second article? Not really sure) looks to different archives that exist already. With a subscription to a few databases, almost every article becomes available to the subscriber. However, Grafton points out how few books are in libraries especially in countries like India or Argentina, and how Google’s book Project would increase access to books in poor countries that might otherwise be without it. The issue of access comes to mind as an historic issue in the library profession. The hindrance of the project questions whether the poor should have access to books and resources that the wealthy can easily afford? Money should not block information access, and it doesn’t have to. One can simply go to the library and get whatever they need. If this option exists, what is the difference if the Google Book Project and ones like it exist? At the same time, though, outside the United States this might not be as possible. The problem is similar to the controversy facing the One Laptop per Child campaign (OLPC), which hopes to send cheap laptops to poor African countries to help them fight poverty and come in to the modern world. However, critics argue that people are donating $200 to send a child a laptop when much graver problems exist that should be solved first – like hunger. So, the argument may not hold so well for third-world countries, but for the United States it holds strong. The archiving of records and documents has been around since before the common era, so archiving books in the digital world should not seem like such a shocking controversy. The National Archives of the U.S. have uploaded many documents to the digital world, and Thomas Jefferson isn’t complaining from the grave. Perhaps contemporary authors should take a hint. Either way, it is clear that the law cannot keep up with the technological world, as lawsuits become more and more common over copyright and intellectual property.
Frischer
When I started reading this article I had to go back in the reader to check the date of publication – 2002! This sounded more like something that would come out of a 1970’s future prediction or some kind of science fiction novel. Frischer’s idea of a digital theater in the research library seemed a little bit extreme for 2002 and I am surprised that he thought this could be feasible within just ten years. At the beginning of the article I was glad to hear someone advocating the permanence of libraries and research libraries in the digital age, but the article just got somewhat bizarre as I read on. I do not understand why this digital theater was so important to his library future vision, but it just seems unpractical. Going back to the Public Library Inquiry, libraries in modern history (and before that, really) are in need of increased funding constantly which they cannot quite seem to procure. The state of Wisconsin, for example, only provides 8% of the library’s needs with petition and legislation needed each year to INCREASE funding just to maintain that 8%. When library funding is so problematic to begin with, Frisher’s digital theater just seems unreasonable. Even within the university libraries, universities face so many budgeting issues to start with, that implementing a program like that which wouldn’t really produce profit might be out of the question.
Plus it brings up some questions in the education realm. If they are recreating this virtual scene for the purposes of accurate historical study, who will review it? Will there be standards for such theaters and will they be enforced? Who will check the accuracy of it? In order to build it, architects would have to use the same information that would be found in a research library today (books!) and researchers still would not be able to see the background information that went into this construction, necessitating again the need for a regular, print research library. It has been six years since Frischer wrote this article, and while we are no closer to developing such a virtual reality theater, the print research library is still going strong and probably will continue to do so in 2012.
Sunday, April 13, 2008
Articles for 15 April
Rayward
Reading this article at times seemed a bit confusing to me, particularly because I do not have a background in general functions of library bureaucracy and functioning other than what we have learned in this class, but the content itself evoked the images and evolution of computer use in the public library. An interesting point at the beginning is that many of the early organizational undertakings were in fact advances in technology; they simply do not fit contemporary stereotypes of the word “technology.” However, the paper card catalog was indeed an innovative development in the library that at the time had just as many implications as the “digital library catalog” does today. Modern use of the word technology automatically stirs up associations with computer-related facets. However, technology is defined by Merriam-Webster as
“the branch of knowledge that deals with the creation and use of technical means and their interrelation with life, society, and the environment, drawing upon such subjects as industrial arts, engineering, applied science, and pure science.”
So in reality, traditional, paper methods of cataloging and indexing were certainly “technical means” within the branch of knowledge. Such endeavors further organized the library system, like the standardization of each card catalog entry by the Library of Congress. As the library became more complex in its services and functioning, it demanded even more innovative and technical ways of handling library tasks. Particularly because this work could be very tedious, expanding library technology to computer use seemed potentially attractive, yet implementation was actually rather slow. In part, though, such slow implementation seems not just a problem of hesitant and traditionalist librarians, but also because of shortcomings of the computer systems themselves, as Rayward notes. Since computers were initially for number crunching, the word/text based application in the library system was “ill-adapted.”
After reading through the article, the description of technology evolution in the library made me think of my own home public library in the Chicago suburbs where I used to live. Rayward’s explanation of the internal actions by the library in regard to computer use can actually be visibly seen through my library. As a young child in elementary school, the card catalog in the children’s department was located in the middle of the entrance – impossible to avoid when you walked in. There were computer catalogs off to the side, but they were somewhat confusing (as we had not quite jumped into the world of computers as we have today), and the computer consisted of simple screens of green text only. Later, though, the card catalog was moved against the wall and a more technical computer system was formed allowing for key word and advanced searches. Visiting that library today, the card catalog has moved out completely, and instead the card catalog is an internet-based catalog that can be equally accessed from within the library, from home, or from any internet-abled computer in any nation.
Downey
The article brings up and interesting and much-talked-about issue: the future role of the librarian and print culture within the public library. It seems almost ironic that the “ultimate” place of knowledge and information is one of the slowest institutions to embrace the “digital information technology” craze, but once it fully does, I do not think this will lead to an overall significant change in the library. The article throughout makes reference to the importance of the labor aspect of the library, and I agree that the human interaction level is extremely important, and that it will remain so even once the library “goes” digital. LIBRARY-21 hoped to create a library system in which catalog information and sources could be accessed from remote locations without need for “specially trained labor.” While most libraries today have developed to the point of external catalog access, and to some degree access to the content of material via online journal subscriptions, the human-interaction factor is no less important. UW provides remote access to all journal subscriptions simply by giving your username and password. However, access alone is often times not enough; the library homepage has a section where you can “chat” with a librarian when you have questions. Just because the computer can take you to where you want to go, does not mean that “lay-people” will know how to get there on their own. For this reason, people are still staffed to answer questions and guide users. Moreover, the LIBRARY-21 exhibit seemed understaffed with librarians as they were overwhelmed to meet the needs and questions of the many visitors each day.
Even once implemented, technology could not operate the library itself. Aside from computer-maintenance staff, librarian labor would be needed to “develop metadata for a significantly sized collection.” As such technology does gradually become available in the library, users still must be acquainted with how to use it; they still need a guiding librarian. Technology and computers in the library are a tool, not a replacement. It is something that aids the librarian and the user in carrying out tasks, but cannot replace the books, encyclopedias, hard copies, or even human assistance on which the library depends. Besides traditional librarians, the users themselves do not usually want a quick and sudden change, and the public at large is hesitant to adapt to new technology in the first place.
Lancaster
Lancaster’s article is truly visionary – many of the technological uses and advancements he predicts have in fact come to life. However, his assertion does not seem to hold true for many other areas of research and investigation: many fields today still depend heavily on a paper society even when the paperless is a viable option. Plus, while Lancaster alludes early on in his article to a likely struggle “for existence and simply survival,” in his conclusion he states that he has no such intention of investigating the credibility of the library’s doom. This contradiction, along with the title of his article, confuses the actual purpose of his writing.
Aside from the library issue, Lancaster’s predictions are remarkable in their accuracy some decades later. He accurately portrays the online journal, the online database’s ability to search multiple journals, the enabling of email in correspondence, and the basic functions of instant messaging. His yardstick year of 2000 is additionally rather accurate. While sophistication of such technological functions improves practically daily, to predict this from 1978 is a remarkable feat.
Nevertheless, his prediction (or at least his allusion of a prediction) of the library’s fate seems a bit far-fetched. Lancaster assumes that once the ability to have a digital (and hence paperless) society exists, it will automatically be so. Though there are many advantages to digitization, it is not a catch-all solution. Law firms spend countless amounts of paper to print off all kinds of legal briefs and documents, even when they can be accessed online. Although many state and federal courts all require electronic filing before a case is heard, both sides always print out all of the documents anyway; computers are not used by the lawyers in the courtroom. Moreover, libraries are in no danger of disappearing. Granted, the digital revolution is obviously changing some of the ways that libraries work, but it is not threatening it. Online databases and subscriptions are still expensive, and many students or other researchers do not have individual access to so many journals and databases; instead, they use their local and/or university library. While the digital world has replaced a lot of the paper our society uses, we are certainly not a paperless one; after all, the article we read was in a published, printed out reader.
Lynch
One of the most important aspects of the technological revolution within the library and information sciences is access. The amount of people who have access to increasing amounts of information has grown exponentially. The locations from which these people can access this information know almost no limits, especially with the transportable laptop and wireless internet. Traditionally, libraries have been known as somewhat cold, closed places where information had to be requested and given through a middle-man (or, in library terms, usually a reference librarian). Today, though, people can walk into a library and gain open access to a majority of the library’s collection without the assistance of a librarian. Last semester in Ecuador I was still able to access all of the digital collections at the UW library and communicate with librarians sitting behind the College Library information desk. Networked information has thrown geography out the window.
Gaining access to increasing amounts of technology and sharing it with others is technologically possible; interestingly, what is holding this back has nothing to do with technology. Rather, traditional copyright laws refuse to make way for the growing revolution of information sharing. Copyright law has come to the forefront not only of the legal profession, but of American society at large. College students who don’t know any better (or that perhaps do) are getting sued for millions by big-name record companies for sharing a 99-cent song with someone halfway across the country they’ve never met. Libraries are adapting effectively to this innovation, but the law still lags behind and needs to catch up.
Marcum
I must admit I got a bit lost in the alphabet soup of this article, and am still a little unsure of the end result of such endeavors, but I think one of the key things I got out of this article was the importance of the nature of cooperation in computer application within the library. Applying technology often seemed first of all to be a bit far reaching, as Marcum alluded to in discussing projects that sought to create “the library of the future,” treating the library more as a laboratory than what is supposed to be an understandable and cohesive service to patrons seeking information. This was a key point, and the gradual work toward such a system required national cooperation. But, in building a national data base, CLR wisely noted how it should be a “confederation of library systems working toward an ideal system, but basing their plans and expectations on reality.” Therefore, the idea of a “decentralized centralization” ended up being the result. Today, library sources aren’t compiled into one at one specific location, but rather are accessible on a whole-scale, but from anywhere – home, office, United States or abroad.
Marcum notes how libraries today are understood more in terms of the services they provide, instead of the collections they contain. I think this has an important implication for library futures – the library certainly, as previously discussed, will not disappear, but perhaps some of the ways in which it functions will change. People will still need librarians to assist them in their information searches and human labor will remain a key component, just like with any institution headed into the digital world. With this new technology comes in fact a growing importance of knowledgeable librarians able to cater to the needs of its technologically-advanced clientele. This seems to be the true challenge of the library in the future, not the notion of pure survival.
Reading this article at times seemed a bit confusing to me, particularly because I do not have a background in general functions of library bureaucracy and functioning other than what we have learned in this class, but the content itself evoked the images and evolution of computer use in the public library. An interesting point at the beginning is that many of the early organizational undertakings were in fact advances in technology; they simply do not fit contemporary stereotypes of the word “technology.” However, the paper card catalog was indeed an innovative development in the library that at the time had just as many implications as the “digital library catalog” does today. Modern use of the word technology automatically stirs up associations with computer-related facets. However, technology is defined by Merriam-Webster as
“the branch of knowledge that deals with the creation and use of technical means and their interrelation with life, society, and the environment, drawing upon such subjects as industrial arts, engineering, applied science, and pure science.”
So in reality, traditional, paper methods of cataloging and indexing were certainly “technical means” within the branch of knowledge. Such endeavors further organized the library system, like the standardization of each card catalog entry by the Library of Congress. As the library became more complex in its services and functioning, it demanded even more innovative and technical ways of handling library tasks. Particularly because this work could be very tedious, expanding library technology to computer use seemed potentially attractive, yet implementation was actually rather slow. In part, though, such slow implementation seems not just a problem of hesitant and traditionalist librarians, but also because of shortcomings of the computer systems themselves, as Rayward notes. Since computers were initially for number crunching, the word/text based application in the library system was “ill-adapted.”
After reading through the article, the description of technology evolution in the library made me think of my own home public library in the Chicago suburbs where I used to live. Rayward’s explanation of the internal actions by the library in regard to computer use can actually be visibly seen through my library. As a young child in elementary school, the card catalog in the children’s department was located in the middle of the entrance – impossible to avoid when you walked in. There were computer catalogs off to the side, but they were somewhat confusing (as we had not quite jumped into the world of computers as we have today), and the computer consisted of simple screens of green text only. Later, though, the card catalog was moved against the wall and a more technical computer system was formed allowing for key word and advanced searches. Visiting that library today, the card catalog has moved out completely, and instead the card catalog is an internet-based catalog that can be equally accessed from within the library, from home, or from any internet-abled computer in any nation.
Downey
The article brings up and interesting and much-talked-about issue: the future role of the librarian and print culture within the public library. It seems almost ironic that the “ultimate” place of knowledge and information is one of the slowest institutions to embrace the “digital information technology” craze, but once it fully does, I do not think this will lead to an overall significant change in the library. The article throughout makes reference to the importance of the labor aspect of the library, and I agree that the human interaction level is extremely important, and that it will remain so even once the library “goes” digital. LIBRARY-21 hoped to create a library system in which catalog information and sources could be accessed from remote locations without need for “specially trained labor.” While most libraries today have developed to the point of external catalog access, and to some degree access to the content of material via online journal subscriptions, the human-interaction factor is no less important. UW provides remote access to all journal subscriptions simply by giving your username and password. However, access alone is often times not enough; the library homepage has a section where you can “chat” with a librarian when you have questions. Just because the computer can take you to where you want to go, does not mean that “lay-people” will know how to get there on their own. For this reason, people are still staffed to answer questions and guide users. Moreover, the LIBRARY-21 exhibit seemed understaffed with librarians as they were overwhelmed to meet the needs and questions of the many visitors each day.
Even once implemented, technology could not operate the library itself. Aside from computer-maintenance staff, librarian labor would be needed to “develop metadata for a significantly sized collection.” As such technology does gradually become available in the library, users still must be acquainted with how to use it; they still need a guiding librarian. Technology and computers in the library are a tool, not a replacement. It is something that aids the librarian and the user in carrying out tasks, but cannot replace the books, encyclopedias, hard copies, or even human assistance on which the library depends. Besides traditional librarians, the users themselves do not usually want a quick and sudden change, and the public at large is hesitant to adapt to new technology in the first place.
Lancaster
Lancaster’s article is truly visionary – many of the technological uses and advancements he predicts have in fact come to life. However, his assertion does not seem to hold true for many other areas of research and investigation: many fields today still depend heavily on a paper society even when the paperless is a viable option. Plus, while Lancaster alludes early on in his article to a likely struggle “for existence and simply survival,” in his conclusion he states that he has no such intention of investigating the credibility of the library’s doom. This contradiction, along with the title of his article, confuses the actual purpose of his writing.
Aside from the library issue, Lancaster’s predictions are remarkable in their accuracy some decades later. He accurately portrays the online journal, the online database’s ability to search multiple journals, the enabling of email in correspondence, and the basic functions of instant messaging. His yardstick year of 2000 is additionally rather accurate. While sophistication of such technological functions improves practically daily, to predict this from 1978 is a remarkable feat.
Nevertheless, his prediction (or at least his allusion of a prediction) of the library’s fate seems a bit far-fetched. Lancaster assumes that once the ability to have a digital (and hence paperless) society exists, it will automatically be so. Though there are many advantages to digitization, it is not a catch-all solution. Law firms spend countless amounts of paper to print off all kinds of legal briefs and documents, even when they can be accessed online. Although many state and federal courts all require electronic filing before a case is heard, both sides always print out all of the documents anyway; computers are not used by the lawyers in the courtroom. Moreover, libraries are in no danger of disappearing. Granted, the digital revolution is obviously changing some of the ways that libraries work, but it is not threatening it. Online databases and subscriptions are still expensive, and many students or other researchers do not have individual access to so many journals and databases; instead, they use their local and/or university library. While the digital world has replaced a lot of the paper our society uses, we are certainly not a paperless one; after all, the article we read was in a published, printed out reader.
Lynch
One of the most important aspects of the technological revolution within the library and information sciences is access. The amount of people who have access to increasing amounts of information has grown exponentially. The locations from which these people can access this information know almost no limits, especially with the transportable laptop and wireless internet. Traditionally, libraries have been known as somewhat cold, closed places where information had to be requested and given through a middle-man (or, in library terms, usually a reference librarian). Today, though, people can walk into a library and gain open access to a majority of the library’s collection without the assistance of a librarian. Last semester in Ecuador I was still able to access all of the digital collections at the UW library and communicate with librarians sitting behind the College Library information desk. Networked information has thrown geography out the window.
Gaining access to increasing amounts of technology and sharing it with others is technologically possible; interestingly, what is holding this back has nothing to do with technology. Rather, traditional copyright laws refuse to make way for the growing revolution of information sharing. Copyright law has come to the forefront not only of the legal profession, but of American society at large. College students who don’t know any better (or that perhaps do) are getting sued for millions by big-name record companies for sharing a 99-cent song with someone halfway across the country they’ve never met. Libraries are adapting effectively to this innovation, but the law still lags behind and needs to catch up.
Marcum
I must admit I got a bit lost in the alphabet soup of this article, and am still a little unsure of the end result of such endeavors, but I think one of the key things I got out of this article was the importance of the nature of cooperation in computer application within the library. Applying technology often seemed first of all to be a bit far reaching, as Marcum alluded to in discussing projects that sought to create “the library of the future,” treating the library more as a laboratory than what is supposed to be an understandable and cohesive service to patrons seeking information. This was a key point, and the gradual work toward such a system required national cooperation. But, in building a national data base, CLR wisely noted how it should be a “confederation of library systems working toward an ideal system, but basing their plans and expectations on reality.” Therefore, the idea of a “decentralized centralization” ended up being the result. Today, library sources aren’t compiled into one at one specific location, but rather are accessible on a whole-scale, but from anywhere – home, office, United States or abroad.
Marcum notes how libraries today are understood more in terms of the services they provide, instead of the collections they contain. I think this has an important implication for library futures – the library certainly, as previously discussed, will not disappear, but perhaps some of the ways in which it functions will change. People will still need librarians to assist them in their information searches and human labor will remain a key component, just like with any institution headed into the digital world. With this new technology comes in fact a growing importance of knowledgeable librarians able to cater to the needs of its technologically-advanced clientele. This seems to be the true challenge of the library in the future, not the notion of pure survival.
Wednesday, April 2, 2008
Articles for 8 April
Nyquist
Nyquist brings up an interesting point in the beginning of his article that relates well in the rest of his piece as well as other literature we have read about library history. He notes the “gaping distance between our professed, historical belief in equality of access to educational opportunity for all our children and youth… and our actual provision…” (81). The juxtaposition of the ideal vs. the reality is not an uncommon one in American history. After all, the nation that professed all men being created equal designated African-American slaves as only three-fifths of a person. However, when such an idealistic proclamation exists, people are apt to accept it because they want to believe that it is true. When in reality it is not, they either turn a blind eye and embrace the message anyway, or like many in early American history, they are simply apathetic. Nyquist points out that both of these reactions are taking place, leaving the disadvantaged in a “vicious circle of diminishing support and deterioration in quality.” It is not enough to simply go through the process of desegregation, he claims; rather, change must come through all sorts of angles to achieve true integration. In other articles we have read, the same dichotomy exists. For example, the early library founders/librarians saw themselves as saviors of society who will come in and make the “bad” man great again. Nyquist exemplifies this issue through the myth of the library as a “poor man’s university.” Although the rhetoric of his article seems like the lone abolitionist back in the 19th century speaking of hope and change to a group unwilling to bring it about, Nyquist offers empirical evidence that such change is taking place on a small scale so that it can therefore take place on the large scale… if we only make the effort. His message urges outreach, but if he’s speaking to a crowd so apathetic and hesitant to change as he describes in the opening of his article, one questions if that change will be realized.
Still, the steps taken in New York offer hope and promise in the library field. Nyquist’s article structure lends itself to an effective organization for persuasion. He first sets up four problems facing the library, then offers solutions that have proven effective and can be taken by any library, and finishes off giving tips to libraries interested in creating change. His overall solution – active outreach and acceptance by the libraries – could be effective (as he proves in New York), so long as it does not fall on unwilling ears satisfied with the status quo.
Berman
Not surprisingly, the previously mentioned dichotomy of the “ideal vs. reality” comes up immediately in Berman’s article as well, only he notes it explicitly: “Yet the library in question no doubt typifies the actual [original emphasis] practice…” The library that proclaims the importance of stocking all possible political and other viewpoints in reality sticks with the safe “Establishment-type” literature. Berman concludes his article nothing that “LIBRARIES TO THE PEOPLE!” is nothing more than a slogan. But it is not just the selection that is the problem among the library; in fact, the library is helping to “subtly reinforce age-old, utterly pernicious stereotypes.” I thought this was a fascinating point that Berman brings up, particularly because it is one that no author has made before. A lot of the articles we read touch on common problems in the library and offer their own take on them. While Berman does do this to some extent as well (intellectual freedom), he makes innovative and original points that once again reinforce the ideal/reality disconnect – instead of the equal-opportunity library welcoming everyone with open arms… they are contributing to prejudices through their card catalog! I do not know Berman’s background, but he seems like someone outside of the library-sphere, which brings fresh new ideas to his writing – ideas that closer model other disciplines at the time. Immigration historians often note the “permanent foreignness” of different races even when they were actually U.S. citizens – the Chinese, for example. Berman picks up on this and notes how the card catalog identifies “Japanese in the U.S.” when in reality those Japanese are in fact Americans. These subtle attitudes and embedded racism only make permanent these inaccurate views of permanent foreignness.
Another interesting and notable aspect of Berman’s article is his rhetoric. Instead of an academic, expository diction that speaks to the library community, Berman speaks to his audience – those outside the library. By not sounding like someone on the inside who promotes the “Establishment” library, Berman embraces his audience and makes it more likely that they will listen to what he has to say. Just as the power of rhetoric was powerful in the subtle card catalog, so too is it in reaching out to Berman’s targeted readers. His active rhetoric sweeps readers in, building their outrage, making the call for action seem more urgent than ever.
Samek
One of the most striking features for me of this article was the ALA’s lack of or slowness to act on important issues – even issues in which they claimed to play a significant role. To start, Samek discusses the issue of professional neutrality within the library, something that seems almost impossible, and he even makes a direct reference to the tensions between the “ideal vision” and the actual “day-to-day workings” of the library. Libraries advocated only one side of the issues, really, but interestingly not through active (per se) choice. Rather, by neglecting to offer viable and visible alternatives, the library advocated the mainstream or status quo. Whether this reflected the library’s true desire is questionable, but either way it was the end result. Silence on the issue of providing multiple viewpoints formed a political stance, intended or not. In fact, Samek cites Mary Lee Bundy’s assertion that “all acts of omissions… promote the interest of groups that wish to perpetuate the status quo.” The ALA adopted the Library’s Bill of Rights that condemned censorship in the library, yet their repeated failure to act when the issue actually came to the forefront raises suspicion as to their true stance. Librarians pushed the ALA for almost a decade to stand up against the Grapes of Wrath controversy before even seeing any rhetorical action like the BOR adoption. In many issues faced by the ALA, it seems they take credit for a so-called solution, but in actuality are very slow to act on it; aside from the censorship issue this can also be seen in discrimination against b lacks in the library around the same time. Without question, the ALA’s rhetoric did not match their actions.
Miller
Overall, I do not buy (no pun intended) Miller’s argument in support of the independent bookstore. Moreover, her interview sample of just 37 bookstore customers seems not to be a very representative sample, but I’ll let the political poll-reader side of me go for this article. For most of the article, she seems to advocate the independent bookstore over the chain/superstore, although at the end she does place the independent bookstore a bit less favorably in its genuine service to the community. Her argument regarding American culture and the bookstore’s role in it, however, seems perfectly valid – Americans do desire the ideal of a common identity, purpose, and shared history. Independent booksellers want to claim they are showing a sensitivity to community needs and providing a friendly place to go, but at the end of the day the independent bookseller and superstore alike are seeking business to make a profit. If one wanted to purport the notion of a cultural center interested in the community and intellectual development, we would be talking about the public library, not the independent bookstore.
Additionally, Miller includes the independent seller’s perspective on community, yet fails to offer the other side of the argument after laying out the independents’ claim. While she quickly sums up the problems with their argument at the end, it comes too late and is too short. She does include what critics have argued, but does not make her own evaluation of the information and leaves her position somewhat ambiguous. As a result, a reader may easily perceive her as taking one side – often the side they oppose – simply because they do not find any evidence to the contrary… until the very end. The critics’ responses do not go very in depth in terms of rebuttal, so it seems to be given an unfair voice.
Regardless, the issues Miller brings up are important. The sense of community in American culture is an important one, and I do not feel the small, independent bookstore does a better job at promoting it than does the retail chain. In fact, just in Madison itself, there are many small, independent bookstores I do not feel comfortable walking in to. As Miller cites Marion Young, these bookstores tend to “exclude those with whom the group does not identify.” There is nothing “communal” about exclusion of those not sharing your point of view. They do not embrace their opposition and therefore fail at the community level. The specific store in Madison which I am talking about will remain nameless, but when I go in asking for Book X and get the response, “we don’t carry that kind of crap,” I immediately long for the big chain store where nobody will outright judge me and claim they do not carry the book I want. If they don’t carry it, they’ll order it for me without use of the word “crap.” Moreover, I do not buy the claim that the independent bookstore – simply by nature of not being a chain – automatically cares more about the community than do the large chains. The workers at the chain bookstore live within the community as well, and are trained to be kind to customers (without calling their reading preferences crap).
I’ll take the chain superstore or the public library any day.
Buschman
In these past articles any emphasis given on “pleasing the customer/patron” seems to be shot down and insulted by the authors. Having a new perspective of library as customer does not seem like such a downfall to humanity as this article makes it seem. One can claim that the library is not in the business of attracting customers, but at the same time if patronage started to become dangerously low, attracting residents in the community would be an obvious step. Who is to say that offering a coffee shop is inferior to simply posing bulletins about library collections? By implementing some degree of this model, libraries have not sworn off previous library tradition to remain loyal only to a complete business model of accountability and profit. Nor should they. Such a dramatic conversion very well could lead to the destruction that Buschman alludes to, but simply adding elements of such a model could actually prove beneficial. So the coffee-shop is only concerned with bringing foot-traffic into the library, but that does not mean it results in an automatic disregard for more quality aspects.
Personally, I will often choose to go to College Library over Memorial Library simply because I can go grab coffee, or a soda, and that’s totally okay. It is more conducive and welcoming to people, and the library should not be scrutinized for that. The Chicago Public Library recently announced applications for a Brand Coffee Shop to be built into the first floor of the library. Besides just attracting numbers, it may also keep people already in the library in the library. Instead of having to leave to go grab coffee or lunch somewhere, they can just go downstairs then head right back up to the collections once they are done. Moreover, the world no longer is in the 19th century – “customer needs and convenience” are a way of operation today. Perhaps it is unfortunate that public institutions like the library would have to resort to such means, but simply complaining about it and losing patronage doesn’t seem to make much sense. Our public institutions SHOULD have some kind of accountability by its patrons. We cannot simply choose not to pay taxes, so this would be one way of getting that accountability back. Without question, the library should not become Starbucks, but one cannot deny how the two have been merging over the past decade. Students increasingly go to Starbucks to study – draining business resources by only buying one cup of coffee yet staying there for hours – and the library has increasingly added elements of the coffee-shop to its walls.
Nyquist brings up an interesting point in the beginning of his article that relates well in the rest of his piece as well as other literature we have read about library history. He notes the “gaping distance between our professed, historical belief in equality of access to educational opportunity for all our children and youth… and our actual provision…” (81). The juxtaposition of the ideal vs. the reality is not an uncommon one in American history. After all, the nation that professed all men being created equal designated African-American slaves as only three-fifths of a person. However, when such an idealistic proclamation exists, people are apt to accept it because they want to believe that it is true. When in reality it is not, they either turn a blind eye and embrace the message anyway, or like many in early American history, they are simply apathetic. Nyquist points out that both of these reactions are taking place, leaving the disadvantaged in a “vicious circle of diminishing support and deterioration in quality.” It is not enough to simply go through the process of desegregation, he claims; rather, change must come through all sorts of angles to achieve true integration. In other articles we have read, the same dichotomy exists. For example, the early library founders/librarians saw themselves as saviors of society who will come in and make the “bad” man great again. Nyquist exemplifies this issue through the myth of the library as a “poor man’s university.” Although the rhetoric of his article seems like the lone abolitionist back in the 19th century speaking of hope and change to a group unwilling to bring it about, Nyquist offers empirical evidence that such change is taking place on a small scale so that it can therefore take place on the large scale… if we only make the effort. His message urges outreach, but if he’s speaking to a crowd so apathetic and hesitant to change as he describes in the opening of his article, one questions if that change will be realized.
Still, the steps taken in New York offer hope and promise in the library field. Nyquist’s article structure lends itself to an effective organization for persuasion. He first sets up four problems facing the library, then offers solutions that have proven effective and can be taken by any library, and finishes off giving tips to libraries interested in creating change. His overall solution – active outreach and acceptance by the libraries – could be effective (as he proves in New York), so long as it does not fall on unwilling ears satisfied with the status quo.
Berman
Not surprisingly, the previously mentioned dichotomy of the “ideal vs. reality” comes up immediately in Berman’s article as well, only he notes it explicitly: “Yet the library in question no doubt typifies the actual [original emphasis] practice…” The library that proclaims the importance of stocking all possible political and other viewpoints in reality sticks with the safe “Establishment-type” literature. Berman concludes his article nothing that “LIBRARIES TO THE PEOPLE!” is nothing more than a slogan. But it is not just the selection that is the problem among the library; in fact, the library is helping to “subtly reinforce age-old, utterly pernicious stereotypes.” I thought this was a fascinating point that Berman brings up, particularly because it is one that no author has made before. A lot of the articles we read touch on common problems in the library and offer their own take on them. While Berman does do this to some extent as well (intellectual freedom), he makes innovative and original points that once again reinforce the ideal/reality disconnect – instead of the equal-opportunity library welcoming everyone with open arms… they are contributing to prejudices through their card catalog! I do not know Berman’s background, but he seems like someone outside of the library-sphere, which brings fresh new ideas to his writing – ideas that closer model other disciplines at the time. Immigration historians often note the “permanent foreignness” of different races even when they were actually U.S. citizens – the Chinese, for example. Berman picks up on this and notes how the card catalog identifies “Japanese in the U.S.” when in reality those Japanese are in fact Americans. These subtle attitudes and embedded racism only make permanent these inaccurate views of permanent foreignness.
Another interesting and notable aspect of Berman’s article is his rhetoric. Instead of an academic, expository diction that speaks to the library community, Berman speaks to his audience – those outside the library. By not sounding like someone on the inside who promotes the “Establishment” library, Berman embraces his audience and makes it more likely that they will listen to what he has to say. Just as the power of rhetoric was powerful in the subtle card catalog, so too is it in reaching out to Berman’s targeted readers. His active rhetoric sweeps readers in, building their outrage, making the call for action seem more urgent than ever.
Samek
One of the most striking features for me of this article was the ALA’s lack of or slowness to act on important issues – even issues in which they claimed to play a significant role. To start, Samek discusses the issue of professional neutrality within the library, something that seems almost impossible, and he even makes a direct reference to the tensions between the “ideal vision” and the actual “day-to-day workings” of the library. Libraries advocated only one side of the issues, really, but interestingly not through active (per se) choice. Rather, by neglecting to offer viable and visible alternatives, the library advocated the mainstream or status quo. Whether this reflected the library’s true desire is questionable, but either way it was the end result. Silence on the issue of providing multiple viewpoints formed a political stance, intended or not. In fact, Samek cites Mary Lee Bundy’s assertion that “all acts of omissions… promote the interest of groups that wish to perpetuate the status quo.” The ALA adopted the Library’s Bill of Rights that condemned censorship in the library, yet their repeated failure to act when the issue actually came to the forefront raises suspicion as to their true stance. Librarians pushed the ALA for almost a decade to stand up against the Grapes of Wrath controversy before even seeing any rhetorical action like the BOR adoption. In many issues faced by the ALA, it seems they take credit for a so-called solution, but in actuality are very slow to act on it; aside from the censorship issue this can also be seen in discrimination against b lacks in the library around the same time. Without question, the ALA’s rhetoric did not match their actions.
Miller
Overall, I do not buy (no pun intended) Miller’s argument in support of the independent bookstore. Moreover, her interview sample of just 37 bookstore customers seems not to be a very representative sample, but I’ll let the political poll-reader side of me go for this article. For most of the article, she seems to advocate the independent bookstore over the chain/superstore, although at the end she does place the independent bookstore a bit less favorably in its genuine service to the community. Her argument regarding American culture and the bookstore’s role in it, however, seems perfectly valid – Americans do desire the ideal of a common identity, purpose, and shared history. Independent booksellers want to claim they are showing a sensitivity to community needs and providing a friendly place to go, but at the end of the day the independent bookseller and superstore alike are seeking business to make a profit. If one wanted to purport the notion of a cultural center interested in the community and intellectual development, we would be talking about the public library, not the independent bookstore.
Additionally, Miller includes the independent seller’s perspective on community, yet fails to offer the other side of the argument after laying out the independents’ claim. While she quickly sums up the problems with their argument at the end, it comes too late and is too short. She does include what critics have argued, but does not make her own evaluation of the information and leaves her position somewhat ambiguous. As a result, a reader may easily perceive her as taking one side – often the side they oppose – simply because they do not find any evidence to the contrary… until the very end. The critics’ responses do not go very in depth in terms of rebuttal, so it seems to be given an unfair voice.
Regardless, the issues Miller brings up are important. The sense of community in American culture is an important one, and I do not feel the small, independent bookstore does a better job at promoting it than does the retail chain. In fact, just in Madison itself, there are many small, independent bookstores I do not feel comfortable walking in to. As Miller cites Marion Young, these bookstores tend to “exclude those with whom the group does not identify.” There is nothing “communal” about exclusion of those not sharing your point of view. They do not embrace their opposition and therefore fail at the community level. The specific store in Madison which I am talking about will remain nameless, but when I go in asking for Book X and get the response, “we don’t carry that kind of crap,” I immediately long for the big chain store where nobody will outright judge me and claim they do not carry the book I want. If they don’t carry it, they’ll order it for me without use of the word “crap.” Moreover, I do not buy the claim that the independent bookstore – simply by nature of not being a chain – automatically cares more about the community than do the large chains. The workers at the chain bookstore live within the community as well, and are trained to be kind to customers (without calling their reading preferences crap).
I’ll take the chain superstore or the public library any day.
Buschman
In these past articles any emphasis given on “pleasing the customer/patron” seems to be shot down and insulted by the authors. Having a new perspective of library as customer does not seem like such a downfall to humanity as this article makes it seem. One can claim that the library is not in the business of attracting customers, but at the same time if patronage started to become dangerously low, attracting residents in the community would be an obvious step. Who is to say that offering a coffee shop is inferior to simply posing bulletins about library collections? By implementing some degree of this model, libraries have not sworn off previous library tradition to remain loyal only to a complete business model of accountability and profit. Nor should they. Such a dramatic conversion very well could lead to the destruction that Buschman alludes to, but simply adding elements of such a model could actually prove beneficial. So the coffee-shop is only concerned with bringing foot-traffic into the library, but that does not mean it results in an automatic disregard for more quality aspects.
Personally, I will often choose to go to College Library over Memorial Library simply because I can go grab coffee, or a soda, and that’s totally okay. It is more conducive and welcoming to people, and the library should not be scrutinized for that. The Chicago Public Library recently announced applications for a Brand Coffee Shop to be built into the first floor of the library. Besides just attracting numbers, it may also keep people already in the library in the library. Instead of having to leave to go grab coffee or lunch somewhere, they can just go downstairs then head right back up to the collections once they are done. Moreover, the world no longer is in the 19th century – “customer needs and convenience” are a way of operation today. Perhaps it is unfortunate that public institutions like the library would have to resort to such means, but simply complaining about it and losing patronage doesn’t seem to make much sense. Our public institutions SHOULD have some kind of accountability by its patrons. We cannot simply choose not to pay taxes, so this would be one way of getting that accountability back. Without question, the library should not become Starbucks, but one cannot deny how the two have been merging over the past decade. Students increasingly go to Starbucks to study – draining business resources by only buying one cup of coffee yet staying there for hours – and the library has increasingly added elements of the coffee-shop to its walls.
Friday, March 28, 2008
Articles for 1 April - the week of many articles
Beck
Beck’s article brings up an important point – the dynamic role of immigrants in the library and the impossibility of generalizing to all immigrant groups. The Jewish immigrants are an excellent example of this, particularly in the library case, for their experience differs significantly from many other ethnic groups. At the same time, because the Jewish experience was rather unique, it is important to keep in mind that their uniqueness does not refute general trends within other immigrant populations in the United States.
Beck begins by noting the two basic interpretations of library history as either progressive/humanitarian or revisionist/authoritarian. Articles since have proposed a more mixed view of these two perspectives, but keeping in mind the time period of the article, I will not go into that. The cultural context of each immigrant group coming to the U.S. played a vital role in shaping their American experience. While the Jewish immigrant tended to come over with a higher significant social and/or monetary capital than many others, the Russian Jews, based on the nature of their leaving Russia (persecution), were not as fortunate. Still, education is an integral part of the Jewish culture; it is not surprise that they had some of the highest education levels and numbers in the U.S. Their perseverance in their academic endeavors is astounding, though. As Beck notes, even the poorest immigrants received education through schools like the Machzikay Talmud Torah Academy. Religion is a deep root in the Jewish culture, and education has deep roots within their religion. Therefore, Beck’s central argument that it was primarily the Jews’ culture that attracted them to the library, not the assimilation efforts of librarians, holds true. The Jews were an exceptional case of education and the immigrant, for “even the most destitute immigrants implored their children to continue their studies” (Beck 140). Recognizing the cultural relevance of each immigrant group – and exploring each group as a unique and individual set of cultural beliefs and values, and moreover as having a unique American experience – will heighten understanding of library history and its influence on the American immigrant.
However legitimate Beck’s thesis is, though, he seems to quick to criticize Harris in his authoritarian perspective. To begin with, in his article Harris expresses the lack of firm evidence in his article and the interpretive nature with which he had to proceed to compile it. Moreover, Harris does not insult the immigrant’s desire for education – like Beck claims he does – for he in fact asserts quite the opposite. In his article, mentioning the shattering of the “uplift” theory held by many idealistic librarians, Harris affirms that the “positive values [of the public library’s service to immigrants] were the result of the immigrants persistence and not the librarian’s conscious attitude” (Harris 2512). Harris and Beck seem to provide different attitudes of the librarians toward the immigrant, but this is not to say that they had necessarily differing views on the immigrants themselves. Beck even mentions that the Aguilar librarians had a more positive attitude toward immigrants than many other libraries in the area did. Indeed, Harris and Beck are not as different in their historical claims as Beck may like to believe.
Berry
Being an article of about a page and a half plus graphs, I do not have that much to say specifically about this article, but it brings up an important point/message. Diversity today continues to be an issue within and outside of the public library profession, and society as a whole is always looking for ways to diversify. In the beginning, Berry brings up the point that in a lot of cases, people simply “don’t get it.” Not to say they are insensitive or purposely negative-feeling towards the issue, it is just something with which they are unfamiliar. Especially in the white community, many people do not understand the immigrant or minority experience, and therefore have difficulty effectively providing services for them. For this reason, it is important for librarians – and for everyone – to open their minds and actively seek out solutions to this growing issue in today’s culture. White privilege exists both consciously and subconsciously, and only by bringing the problem into a salient awareness can the problem be fixed. Awareness, Berry affirms, is a critical step, no matter how uncomfortable it may be. As evidenced by the graphs provided, the “white ethnicity” comprises an overwhelming majority of librarians in the U.S.
Question number 6 states “I can remain oblivious of the language and customs of persons of color who constitute the world’s majority without feeling in my culture any penalty of such oblivion.” Unfortunately, by holding this attitude, or even its subconscious counterpart, librarians not only limit their service to minority groups, but they hinder their own abilities and knowledge as a librarian. Librarians are meant to assist in the gathering of information and knowledge, but when they are only limited to one language (or even to one culture) the resources with which they are familiar become restricted. Many if not all history graduate programs that deal with cultures of another language require some degree of language proficiency for so many of the valuable sources they will use in their research are not in English. Primary sources from hundreds or thousands of years ago will obviously not be in English, yet researchers must have access to these accounts and be able to read and interpret them. If not, their research will be insufficient. Likewise, the librarian that rejects other languages and cultures is limited in much the same way. Her access and familiarity with many of the world’s resources will, in fact, be scant. Therefore, it is essential that librarians – especially white librarians – heed Berry’s words and learn to embrace diversity.
Malone
While I did question the purpose and necessity of some of the material – especially in the middle – in Malone’s article, I think some of the brief points she makes in the beginning and toward the end warrant examination. I wish she had gone into more detail on such points, but at least by bringing them to the forefront and urging readers to look further, Malone takes the first step in the process.
In discussing multiculturalism (or lack thereof) in library histories, Malone notes the contradictory nature of librarians claiming open access and intellectual freedom while they specifically catered their collection to white elites, with less concern/focus on foreign language collections or interests of immigrant readers. Taking this observation along with our previous reading from The Dismissal of Miss Ruth Brown, readers can get a good idea of the detrimental repercussions of librarians (or city commissions) who believe they can best judge what the public should and should not be reading – and more over whether they should or should not have access to certain materials. She goes on to note the “constructedness and fluidity of group identity.” Whether her intended point or not, for me it caused a recollection of David Hollinger’s Postethnic America, where Hollinger lays out the problems that the rhetoric of the multiculturalism debates has caused. As a result, multiculturalism debates have actually alienated certain groups by blending their unique features into one group identity different from the “mainstream” or “white ethnicity” of the U.S. Instead, he pushes for a more cosmopolitan view as first referenced by Bourne, which recognizes the fluid dynamics of ethnicity and group identification. For Malone, this seems to be an ideal suggestion for it would better allow for the fact that group identities are “constituted and reconstituted” continuously. After all, if the elite blacks cannot tell the whole story of black involvement in library affairs, a generalized and stereotyped ethnic group is equally incapable.
Near the end of the article, while discussing ways to move toward multiculturalism in the library, Malone questions the role of the historian, promoting an abandonment of presentation as objective observers and instead taking a stand and supporting their position. I believe this is already the role/purpose of an historian’s work, as they establish a thesis and then set off to prove it. Many people often incorrectly categorize historians as simply telling an expository story of events in the past, but history is dynamic and ever-changing; historians constantly interpret facts and events in order to prove what they are writing. Historians certainly aren’t opinion columnists, but Malone’s suggestion would make for an interesting case. If historians, particularly in library history, more often took opinionated stands, it could make for a very interesting and educational debate/discussion.
Musmann
A really interesting point Musmann brings up in the beginning of the article is the difference in treatment toward immigrants and African-Americans. Especially in the early part of the century, backlash against immigrants was extreme, as witnessed by the Immigration Act of 1924 putting quotas on immigrants in general but moreover ranking immigrants based on country of origin through this quota system. Certainly immigrants were looked down upon and not considered “on equal ground” with the “white” Anglo-Saxons who were here “first.” [Sentiment of the times, not my own!] Yet, in the case of the library (and in society at large, really), immigrants were treated quite well relative to African-Americans (despite the fact that immigrants were restricted harshly to citizenship abilities, while those of African descent were without quotas). The sentiment of the immigrant over the African-American is particularly clear with the logical disconnect between the library’s arguments against African-Americans but for immigrants. The ALA claimed dealings with African-Americans were more of a local or regional issue, so they did not intervene. Clearly though, the same case existed with non-African immigrants. The Chicago Public Library alone had significantly different demographics just between their own branches – some catering to African-Americans, some to Bohemians, others to Italians, and others mostly white. The list goes on. Clearly, though, libraries mobilized to provide outreach to the immigrant. Moreover, throughout the mid-20th century the Chicago Public Library branches issued surveys on the ethnic makeup of their areas to better cater to the immigrant and their needs and interests. However, Musmann notes how “an analysis of the readers’ background, information on their social and economic status, and general demographic data” was left out of reports for African-American libraries and branches. There appeared little interest to adapt services to best fit African-Americans, particularly evidenced by the Atlanta public library “disposing” of their black advisory committee because “they did not confine their activities to advice.”
Within the Civil Rights Movement education and racial issues in general throughout our nation’s history, one rarely thinks of the public library as an actor. People mention separate/segregated drinking fountains, restaurants, bathrooms, etc. but never (or at least, rarely) does the library issue come up. The library provides a perfect example of the inequality of “separate but equal” almost as much as the public school system, yet it receives no such attention. Of course, in secondary and even higher education the library is not usually mentioned in any form of historical instruction, so perhaps it should not be that surprising. Nevertheless, learning and education on the race issue like that presented by Musmann could provide new and insightful ways of learning and teaching at these levels.
Whitmire
The story of Regina Anderson/Andrews surprised and impressed me; while color should not be an obstacle in public or professional life, during Regina’s time it was. Her ability and determination to overcome and surpass these obstacles and boundaries provides a noteworthy lesson not only in race issues, but for anyone looking to overcome an obstacle in life. She truly can act as a poster child for perseverance.
One of the most interesting – and surprising – parts in the article was Ernestine Rose’s ambiguous pseudo-recommendation regarding Andrews. She claimed she might hire Andrews for the position of second first assistant, hence hindering her earned promotion, which was not even an existing position. The fact that the outspoken advocate for African-Americans in the branch seemed to be prejudiced sheds light on the true plight of the race issue in early 20th century America. Normally, someone in Andrews’ position might give up – being black and female – but her determination kept her going as she gathered allies in her fight against the New York Public Library, an institution surprisingly prejudiced for the diversity that existed within the city. Andrews’ civic life also indicates her dedication to public service in various areas.
Often, the role of the public library has had an active, public outreach image. Normally, though, such as been in the form of white librarians promoting the idea of the “education of the common man” lifting himself up through his own hard work; or even white librarians who fought civically for expanded rights in the library – such as Ruth Brown and supposedly Ernestine Rose (though part of me questions that after having read the article; though I do not know much more about Rose as a person or in her civic duties). Andrews, though, seems to have taken her work one step further, branching out from the library/professional sphere and really going out into the community – and the country – to promote her civic sense of duty. In addition to completing her thesis, she balanced her civic and professional careers/life to maximize the service she provided.
Gittings
Without question, the Task Force on Gay Liberation seems the most active group within the American Library Association. The previous readings – both for this week and the Ruth Brown book – have given the ALA the impression of shying away from any confrontational action and being nervous to take a stand on almost everything. The library does not seem like a place of assertion or political action (based on common stereotypes, I mean) but perhaps by being more assertive the library could win a more salient place in public image and opinion. Interesting enough, despite stereotypes of passivity, it was in the ALA that for “the first time… gay people in any professional association had openly banded together to advance the gay cause through that profession.” While the TFGL doesn’t seem to conform to passive actions of the ALA, they at least gave the TFGL the opportunity to be more aggressive and assertive in their affairs. Obviously, this approach worked well at least for the TFGL and could (should?) serve as a lesson for other ALA subgroups. The TFGL’s accomplishments are impressive, especially considering that homosexuality was not taken off the “mental disorder” list until 1973, and was not changed in classification by the World Health Organization until recently (1992). Unlike the ALA, the TFGL was not afraid to take provocative steps to get their message out in the public, as evidenced by their kissing booth at the 1971 ALA conference. However, the ALA itself would not even denounce racism in the library despite clear cases in which they should. Even within the gay community (outside the TFGL group) the ALA would not “go to bat” for Michael McConnell after being unjustly fired from his library job. The actions of the ALA seemed to lag significantly behind their rhetoric – in terms of race, intellectual freedom/censorship, and even gay and lesbian issues. It seems they have finally caught up, but again, I do not know much about contemporary issues within the ALA.
Beck’s article brings up an important point – the dynamic role of immigrants in the library and the impossibility of generalizing to all immigrant groups. The Jewish immigrants are an excellent example of this, particularly in the library case, for their experience differs significantly from many other ethnic groups. At the same time, because the Jewish experience was rather unique, it is important to keep in mind that their uniqueness does not refute general trends within other immigrant populations in the United States.
Beck begins by noting the two basic interpretations of library history as either progressive/humanitarian or revisionist/authoritarian. Articles since have proposed a more mixed view of these two perspectives, but keeping in mind the time period of the article, I will not go into that. The cultural context of each immigrant group coming to the U.S. played a vital role in shaping their American experience. While the Jewish immigrant tended to come over with a higher significant social and/or monetary capital than many others, the Russian Jews, based on the nature of their leaving Russia (persecution), were not as fortunate. Still, education is an integral part of the Jewish culture; it is not surprise that they had some of the highest education levels and numbers in the U.S. Their perseverance in their academic endeavors is astounding, though. As Beck notes, even the poorest immigrants received education through schools like the Machzikay Talmud Torah Academy. Religion is a deep root in the Jewish culture, and education has deep roots within their religion. Therefore, Beck’s central argument that it was primarily the Jews’ culture that attracted them to the library, not the assimilation efforts of librarians, holds true. The Jews were an exceptional case of education and the immigrant, for “even the most destitute immigrants implored their children to continue their studies” (Beck 140). Recognizing the cultural relevance of each immigrant group – and exploring each group as a unique and individual set of cultural beliefs and values, and moreover as having a unique American experience – will heighten understanding of library history and its influence on the American immigrant.
However legitimate Beck’s thesis is, though, he seems to quick to criticize Harris in his authoritarian perspective. To begin with, in his article Harris expresses the lack of firm evidence in his article and the interpretive nature with which he had to proceed to compile it. Moreover, Harris does not insult the immigrant’s desire for education – like Beck claims he does – for he in fact asserts quite the opposite. In his article, mentioning the shattering of the “uplift” theory held by many idealistic librarians, Harris affirms that the “positive values [of the public library’s service to immigrants] were the result of the immigrants persistence and not the librarian’s conscious attitude” (Harris 2512). Harris and Beck seem to provide different attitudes of the librarians toward the immigrant, but this is not to say that they had necessarily differing views on the immigrants themselves. Beck even mentions that the Aguilar librarians had a more positive attitude toward immigrants than many other libraries in the area did. Indeed, Harris and Beck are not as different in their historical claims as Beck may like to believe.
Berry
Being an article of about a page and a half plus graphs, I do not have that much to say specifically about this article, but it brings up an important point/message. Diversity today continues to be an issue within and outside of the public library profession, and society as a whole is always looking for ways to diversify. In the beginning, Berry brings up the point that in a lot of cases, people simply “don’t get it.” Not to say they are insensitive or purposely negative-feeling towards the issue, it is just something with which they are unfamiliar. Especially in the white community, many people do not understand the immigrant or minority experience, and therefore have difficulty effectively providing services for them. For this reason, it is important for librarians – and for everyone – to open their minds and actively seek out solutions to this growing issue in today’s culture. White privilege exists both consciously and subconsciously, and only by bringing the problem into a salient awareness can the problem be fixed. Awareness, Berry affirms, is a critical step, no matter how uncomfortable it may be. As evidenced by the graphs provided, the “white ethnicity” comprises an overwhelming majority of librarians in the U.S.
Question number 6 states “I can remain oblivious of the language and customs of persons of color who constitute the world’s majority without feeling in my culture any penalty of such oblivion.” Unfortunately, by holding this attitude, or even its subconscious counterpart, librarians not only limit their service to minority groups, but they hinder their own abilities and knowledge as a librarian. Librarians are meant to assist in the gathering of information and knowledge, but when they are only limited to one language (or even to one culture) the resources with which they are familiar become restricted. Many if not all history graduate programs that deal with cultures of another language require some degree of language proficiency for so many of the valuable sources they will use in their research are not in English. Primary sources from hundreds or thousands of years ago will obviously not be in English, yet researchers must have access to these accounts and be able to read and interpret them. If not, their research will be insufficient. Likewise, the librarian that rejects other languages and cultures is limited in much the same way. Her access and familiarity with many of the world’s resources will, in fact, be scant. Therefore, it is essential that librarians – especially white librarians – heed Berry’s words and learn to embrace diversity.
Malone
While I did question the purpose and necessity of some of the material – especially in the middle – in Malone’s article, I think some of the brief points she makes in the beginning and toward the end warrant examination. I wish she had gone into more detail on such points, but at least by bringing them to the forefront and urging readers to look further, Malone takes the first step in the process.
In discussing multiculturalism (or lack thereof) in library histories, Malone notes the contradictory nature of librarians claiming open access and intellectual freedom while they specifically catered their collection to white elites, with less concern/focus on foreign language collections or interests of immigrant readers. Taking this observation along with our previous reading from The Dismissal of Miss Ruth Brown, readers can get a good idea of the detrimental repercussions of librarians (or city commissions) who believe they can best judge what the public should and should not be reading – and more over whether they should or should not have access to certain materials. She goes on to note the “constructedness and fluidity of group identity.” Whether her intended point or not, for me it caused a recollection of David Hollinger’s Postethnic America, where Hollinger lays out the problems that the rhetoric of the multiculturalism debates has caused. As a result, multiculturalism debates have actually alienated certain groups by blending their unique features into one group identity different from the “mainstream” or “white ethnicity” of the U.S. Instead, he pushes for a more cosmopolitan view as first referenced by Bourne, which recognizes the fluid dynamics of ethnicity and group identification. For Malone, this seems to be an ideal suggestion for it would better allow for the fact that group identities are “constituted and reconstituted” continuously. After all, if the elite blacks cannot tell the whole story of black involvement in library affairs, a generalized and stereotyped ethnic group is equally incapable.
Near the end of the article, while discussing ways to move toward multiculturalism in the library, Malone questions the role of the historian, promoting an abandonment of presentation as objective observers and instead taking a stand and supporting their position. I believe this is already the role/purpose of an historian’s work, as they establish a thesis and then set off to prove it. Many people often incorrectly categorize historians as simply telling an expository story of events in the past, but history is dynamic and ever-changing; historians constantly interpret facts and events in order to prove what they are writing. Historians certainly aren’t opinion columnists, but Malone’s suggestion would make for an interesting case. If historians, particularly in library history, more often took opinionated stands, it could make for a very interesting and educational debate/discussion.
Musmann
A really interesting point Musmann brings up in the beginning of the article is the difference in treatment toward immigrants and African-Americans. Especially in the early part of the century, backlash against immigrants was extreme, as witnessed by the Immigration Act of 1924 putting quotas on immigrants in general but moreover ranking immigrants based on country of origin through this quota system. Certainly immigrants were looked down upon and not considered “on equal ground” with the “white” Anglo-Saxons who were here “first.” [Sentiment of the times, not my own!] Yet, in the case of the library (and in society at large, really), immigrants were treated quite well relative to African-Americans (despite the fact that immigrants were restricted harshly to citizenship abilities, while those of African descent were without quotas). The sentiment of the immigrant over the African-American is particularly clear with the logical disconnect between the library’s arguments against African-Americans but for immigrants. The ALA claimed dealings with African-Americans were more of a local or regional issue, so they did not intervene. Clearly though, the same case existed with non-African immigrants. The Chicago Public Library alone had significantly different demographics just between their own branches – some catering to African-Americans, some to Bohemians, others to Italians, and others mostly white. The list goes on. Clearly, though, libraries mobilized to provide outreach to the immigrant. Moreover, throughout the mid-20th century the Chicago Public Library branches issued surveys on the ethnic makeup of their areas to better cater to the immigrant and their needs and interests. However, Musmann notes how “an analysis of the readers’ background, information on their social and economic status, and general demographic data” was left out of reports for African-American libraries and branches. There appeared little interest to adapt services to best fit African-Americans, particularly evidenced by the Atlanta public library “disposing” of their black advisory committee because “they did not confine their activities to advice.”
Within the Civil Rights Movement education and racial issues in general throughout our nation’s history, one rarely thinks of the public library as an actor. People mention separate/segregated drinking fountains, restaurants, bathrooms, etc. but never (or at least, rarely) does the library issue come up. The library provides a perfect example of the inequality of “separate but equal” almost as much as the public school system, yet it receives no such attention. Of course, in secondary and even higher education the library is not usually mentioned in any form of historical instruction, so perhaps it should not be that surprising. Nevertheless, learning and education on the race issue like that presented by Musmann could provide new and insightful ways of learning and teaching at these levels.
Whitmire
The story of Regina Anderson/Andrews surprised and impressed me; while color should not be an obstacle in public or professional life, during Regina’s time it was. Her ability and determination to overcome and surpass these obstacles and boundaries provides a noteworthy lesson not only in race issues, but for anyone looking to overcome an obstacle in life. She truly can act as a poster child for perseverance.
One of the most interesting – and surprising – parts in the article was Ernestine Rose’s ambiguous pseudo-recommendation regarding Andrews. She claimed she might hire Andrews for the position of second first assistant, hence hindering her earned promotion, which was not even an existing position. The fact that the outspoken advocate for African-Americans in the branch seemed to be prejudiced sheds light on the true plight of the race issue in early 20th century America. Normally, someone in Andrews’ position might give up – being black and female – but her determination kept her going as she gathered allies in her fight against the New York Public Library, an institution surprisingly prejudiced for the diversity that existed within the city. Andrews’ civic life also indicates her dedication to public service in various areas.
Often, the role of the public library has had an active, public outreach image. Normally, though, such as been in the form of white librarians promoting the idea of the “education of the common man” lifting himself up through his own hard work; or even white librarians who fought civically for expanded rights in the library – such as Ruth Brown and supposedly Ernestine Rose (though part of me questions that after having read the article; though I do not know much more about Rose as a person or in her civic duties). Andrews, though, seems to have taken her work one step further, branching out from the library/professional sphere and really going out into the community – and the country – to promote her civic sense of duty. In addition to completing her thesis, she balanced her civic and professional careers/life to maximize the service she provided.
Gittings
Without question, the Task Force on Gay Liberation seems the most active group within the American Library Association. The previous readings – both for this week and the Ruth Brown book – have given the ALA the impression of shying away from any confrontational action and being nervous to take a stand on almost everything. The library does not seem like a place of assertion or political action (based on common stereotypes, I mean) but perhaps by being more assertive the library could win a more salient place in public image and opinion. Interesting enough, despite stereotypes of passivity, it was in the ALA that for “the first time… gay people in any professional association had openly banded together to advance the gay cause through that profession.” While the TFGL doesn’t seem to conform to passive actions of the ALA, they at least gave the TFGL the opportunity to be more aggressive and assertive in their affairs. Obviously, this approach worked well at least for the TFGL and could (should?) serve as a lesson for other ALA subgroups. The TFGL’s accomplishments are impressive, especially considering that homosexuality was not taken off the “mental disorder” list until 1973, and was not changed in classification by the World Health Organization until recently (1992). Unlike the ALA, the TFGL was not afraid to take provocative steps to get their message out in the public, as evidenced by their kissing booth at the 1971 ALA conference. However, the ALA itself would not even denounce racism in the library despite clear cases in which they should. Even within the gay community (outside the TFGL group) the ALA would not “go to bat” for Michael McConnell after being unjustly fired from his library job. The actions of the ALA seemed to lag significantly behind their rhetoric – in terms of race, intellectual freedom/censorship, and even gay and lesbian issues. It seems they have finally caught up, but again, I do not know much about contemporary issues within the ALA.
Articles for 11 Mar
Leigh
The introduction to this piece was interesting in that it seemed surprising that the ALA finally seemed ready to tackle a problem outside of its own organization. Many of the articles we have read seem to expose the ALA as a body that was slow to react to problems facing the library – like the race issue. Since it was written in 1950, obviously the ALA hadn’t made a complete turnaround with the Public Library Inquiry as the race issue would have come along later, as in the Ruth Brown book for next week. While the inquiry was more related to internal workings than external issues, a step in the right direction is step one. Being detached from the public library, therefore, would make it more objective and being a social science research center, the results would be harder to ignore. In the prose and setup of the article, there is definitely a noted difference in their approach opposed to many of the articles we have read from an internal library perspective. The Public Library Inquiry aims to evaluate the library’s success in terms of its own goals as well as their aptness within the framework of American social and cultural institutions. The author proposes increased funding and bureaucratic organization to better run the library in the coming decade.
Results form the inquiry exposed some of the problems in the library hinted at in other articles, particularly the tradition of the library and hesitance to move away from it. Implementation of technology and having a more liberal library collection were two examples of these. Despite Lutie Stearns’ work with the traveling library in Wisconsin, the Inquiry found that many places were too small or too poor to have a public library or access to one, for which increased funding is obviously a first step. The concept of pooling facilities touched on the same premise behind the implementation of branch library systems within the Main library, increasing resources to more people. While funding was needed to be able to improve library systems, librarians and moreover administrators needed to dedicate them to the steps outlined in the Public Library Inquiry. While problems remain today, great improvement in the efficiency department has been made since the 1950’s.
Nevertheless, based on the historical contexts we have studied – particularly with immigrants on the East Coast – the fact that library services “would provide people of all ages in all places… with abundant opportunity to learn so far as library materials can give that opportunity” seems a bit unlikely. Reading ahead to next week’s book, this obviously did not happen among African Americans. Inequality to access predominated library history, and did not end with the Public Library Inquiry in 1950.
Bush
In this article, Bush proposes potential new paths for peacetime physicists to follow. No longer able to focus on the more war-related elements of physics, they are now encouraged by Bush to use their skills for the maintenance and retention of stored knowledge. Focusing on “the record,” physicists can use technology to find innovative ways of information storage (microfilm), transcription (like the Voder and Vocoder), performing mathematics, and effective means of research. While not all of Bush’s article concentrates directly on the library, his methods and applications definitely transfer over to library processes and ways to manage information and collections, most importantly in how to preserve access to such information. Through Bush, the library and scientific communities merge, lending themselves to one another. Particularly after the war, library attendance increased as more veterans came home and women were no longer working in factories since they were replaced by men. Similarly, physicists working for the war cause obviously no longer were needed to serve that purpose. For this, Bush has the solution.
Storing knowledge was the job of the library, and by using scientist to technology-ify their storage, the library could save on space and efficiency. Compression of all this knowledge would further benefit in cost, which, as we learned in the previous Public Library Inquiry, was a concern in the library since they needed increased funding. However, if this record of knowledge can be so simplified, it might put the librarian in danger. While the librarian is important to guide people to materials, and the technology Bush suggests was far off, technology could make the librarian more obsolete. Today, the librarian still remains important, so obviously technology hasn’t killed the profession completely, but it definitely has caused changes.
Pennavaria
Pennavaria, in her article, discusses the future of the library and books/information in general – not through her own predictions, but rather through writings of fiction and nonfiction by other authors. She focuses mostly on how writers in the past thought information access would be in the future. Fiction writing, she claims, tends to focus more on long-term future and make more concrete predictions about how the library will actually BE in the future. However, fiction does not necessarily attempt to prophesize (is that a word?), instead it expresses the writer’s own fears and beliefs about the potential of their own society – most often for the worst. Pannevaria cites numerous fiction examples where books and information are completely destroyed by an overbearing government, reflecting the value of books for independent thought and existence. For this reason, fiction writing (although some librarians historically claimed otherwise) plays an integral role in the present reality. Many times realities are expressed in a more obscure form through fiction – whether it be due to a real oppression that would not allow them to say it otherwise or because the images that fiction writing allows can be more powerful. Obviously, saying that information may rule over us one day is less effective than reading 1984.
Nonfiction writings, on the other hand, tend to be more conservative in their predictions. She references a few articles relating to technology, but points out that most deal more with the actual role of the library. Librarians themselves were the optimistic futurists, believing the library will remain similar but grow in importance and become a true cultural center. Interestingly, aspects of their predictions – whether literally or in a more figurative sense – can today be found in the modern library. The purpose of nonfiction is usually to be more informative, not to invoke a dramatic reaction in readers like fiction. Not to mention, writing in the realm of nonfiction makes the author more accountable for its accuracy, so the conservative aspect of it seems logical. Still, that doesn’t mean nonfiction writings are not valuable. Charles Cutter in 1883 offered the fantasy that all libraries in the country would be technologically connected and open every day. Through systems like online access allowing 24 hours library access (at least to some degree) and Interlibrary Loan, Cutter’s prediction from over a century ago was actually quite accurate. However, evaluating the accuracy of his statement 60 years ago might prove otherwise.
Sapp
Sapp details thoughts about future librarianship and libraries throughout different decades since the ALA’s establishment in 1876. While obviously concerns change with the times, it is surprising to see how many elements remain the same (concerns over technology, proper organization, supply/demand). Between 1876-1900 Sapp cites concerns over the social agenda for librarians, and between 1900 and 1945 a sense of civic responsibility only increased with the outbreaks of World Wars I and II. The question of getting information to patrons remained a large issue throughout the 20th century as librarians were unsure and in disagreement whether technology should aid the library, and if so, how. After 1946, as academic scholarship changed and increased, the library further questioned how it would meet the demands of its new and ever-growing patronage and the appropriate technology to aid them along. Even today, we see this debate in libraries over the future role of technology as the library enters the digital world as well as keeping its foot in print culture.
Still, I do not believe that print culture has reduced in value. While obviously technology has increased in importance within the library, print culture remains an integral aspect. Especially in the study of history of any subject, many documents and articles are not digitized, and some are in such fragile condition that they cannot be digitized. Others are used less frequently to make it not worth the cost to digitize. Even when a patron has a digital version of something, they often need to print it anyway, bringing the digital world back into the traditional print world. Society today is not ready for a completely digital world, and even if someday it becomes so inclined, that day is far off.
The introduction to this piece was interesting in that it seemed surprising that the ALA finally seemed ready to tackle a problem outside of its own organization. Many of the articles we have read seem to expose the ALA as a body that was slow to react to problems facing the library – like the race issue. Since it was written in 1950, obviously the ALA hadn’t made a complete turnaround with the Public Library Inquiry as the race issue would have come along later, as in the Ruth Brown book for next week. While the inquiry was more related to internal workings than external issues, a step in the right direction is step one. Being detached from the public library, therefore, would make it more objective and being a social science research center, the results would be harder to ignore. In the prose and setup of the article, there is definitely a noted difference in their approach opposed to many of the articles we have read from an internal library perspective. The Public Library Inquiry aims to evaluate the library’s success in terms of its own goals as well as their aptness within the framework of American social and cultural institutions. The author proposes increased funding and bureaucratic organization to better run the library in the coming decade.
Results form the inquiry exposed some of the problems in the library hinted at in other articles, particularly the tradition of the library and hesitance to move away from it. Implementation of technology and having a more liberal library collection were two examples of these. Despite Lutie Stearns’ work with the traveling library in Wisconsin, the Inquiry found that many places were too small or too poor to have a public library or access to one, for which increased funding is obviously a first step. The concept of pooling facilities touched on the same premise behind the implementation of branch library systems within the Main library, increasing resources to more people. While funding was needed to be able to improve library systems, librarians and moreover administrators needed to dedicate them to the steps outlined in the Public Library Inquiry. While problems remain today, great improvement in the efficiency department has been made since the 1950’s.
Nevertheless, based on the historical contexts we have studied – particularly with immigrants on the East Coast – the fact that library services “would provide people of all ages in all places… with abundant opportunity to learn so far as library materials can give that opportunity” seems a bit unlikely. Reading ahead to next week’s book, this obviously did not happen among African Americans. Inequality to access predominated library history, and did not end with the Public Library Inquiry in 1950.
Bush
In this article, Bush proposes potential new paths for peacetime physicists to follow. No longer able to focus on the more war-related elements of physics, they are now encouraged by Bush to use their skills for the maintenance and retention of stored knowledge. Focusing on “the record,” physicists can use technology to find innovative ways of information storage (microfilm), transcription (like the Voder and Vocoder), performing mathematics, and effective means of research. While not all of Bush’s article concentrates directly on the library, his methods and applications definitely transfer over to library processes and ways to manage information and collections, most importantly in how to preserve access to such information. Through Bush, the library and scientific communities merge, lending themselves to one another. Particularly after the war, library attendance increased as more veterans came home and women were no longer working in factories since they were replaced by men. Similarly, physicists working for the war cause obviously no longer were needed to serve that purpose. For this, Bush has the solution.
Storing knowledge was the job of the library, and by using scientist to technology-ify their storage, the library could save on space and efficiency. Compression of all this knowledge would further benefit in cost, which, as we learned in the previous Public Library Inquiry, was a concern in the library since they needed increased funding. However, if this record of knowledge can be so simplified, it might put the librarian in danger. While the librarian is important to guide people to materials, and the technology Bush suggests was far off, technology could make the librarian more obsolete. Today, the librarian still remains important, so obviously technology hasn’t killed the profession completely, but it definitely has caused changes.
Pennavaria
Pennavaria, in her article, discusses the future of the library and books/information in general – not through her own predictions, but rather through writings of fiction and nonfiction by other authors. She focuses mostly on how writers in the past thought information access would be in the future. Fiction writing, she claims, tends to focus more on long-term future and make more concrete predictions about how the library will actually BE in the future. However, fiction does not necessarily attempt to prophesize (is that a word?), instead it expresses the writer’s own fears and beliefs about the potential of their own society – most often for the worst. Pannevaria cites numerous fiction examples where books and information are completely destroyed by an overbearing government, reflecting the value of books for independent thought and existence. For this reason, fiction writing (although some librarians historically claimed otherwise) plays an integral role in the present reality. Many times realities are expressed in a more obscure form through fiction – whether it be due to a real oppression that would not allow them to say it otherwise or because the images that fiction writing allows can be more powerful. Obviously, saying that information may rule over us one day is less effective than reading 1984.
Nonfiction writings, on the other hand, tend to be more conservative in their predictions. She references a few articles relating to technology, but points out that most deal more with the actual role of the library. Librarians themselves were the optimistic futurists, believing the library will remain similar but grow in importance and become a true cultural center. Interestingly, aspects of their predictions – whether literally or in a more figurative sense – can today be found in the modern library. The purpose of nonfiction is usually to be more informative, not to invoke a dramatic reaction in readers like fiction. Not to mention, writing in the realm of nonfiction makes the author more accountable for its accuracy, so the conservative aspect of it seems logical. Still, that doesn’t mean nonfiction writings are not valuable. Charles Cutter in 1883 offered the fantasy that all libraries in the country would be technologically connected and open every day. Through systems like online access allowing 24 hours library access (at least to some degree) and Interlibrary Loan, Cutter’s prediction from over a century ago was actually quite accurate. However, evaluating the accuracy of his statement 60 years ago might prove otherwise.
Sapp
Sapp details thoughts about future librarianship and libraries throughout different decades since the ALA’s establishment in 1876. While obviously concerns change with the times, it is surprising to see how many elements remain the same (concerns over technology, proper organization, supply/demand). Between 1876-1900 Sapp cites concerns over the social agenda for librarians, and between 1900 and 1945 a sense of civic responsibility only increased with the outbreaks of World Wars I and II. The question of getting information to patrons remained a large issue throughout the 20th century as librarians were unsure and in disagreement whether technology should aid the library, and if so, how. After 1946, as academic scholarship changed and increased, the library further questioned how it would meet the demands of its new and ever-growing patronage and the appropriate technology to aid them along. Even today, we see this debate in libraries over the future role of technology as the library enters the digital world as well as keeping its foot in print culture.
Still, I do not believe that print culture has reduced in value. While obviously technology has increased in importance within the library, print culture remains an integral aspect. Especially in the study of history of any subject, many documents and articles are not digitized, and some are in such fragile condition that they cannot be digitized. Others are used less frequently to make it not worth the cost to digitize. Even when a patron has a digital version of something, they often need to print it anyway, bringing the digital world back into the traditional print world. Society today is not ready for a completely digital world, and even if someday it becomes so inclined, that day is far off.
Articles for 4 Mar
Readings for 04 March
Wiegand
One of the most striking aspects of Wiegand’s article was the dramatic shift in the library’s role – or at least perceived role. While their overall purpose as an institution remained the same (to provide the public with resources and information), other changes and shifts that occurred in the World War I era seem too dramatic to go unnoticed. No longer was the library a passive place where people went when they felt like finding information or a good book – now it was an active participant in American culture, society, and daily life… a sharp contrast from the stereotypical view (both historically and today) of the public library.
Once neutrality was broken by entering the war, the public library became a beacon of patriotism and aligned with the government in every way it could. Wiegand explains that they “relied upon the sentiment of the American public to carry forward their self-perceived war activities.” Another interesting point – in many of our readings it seems the public library has grand ideals and impressions of itself and its role in society, when in reality its true impact was far less (like being the saviors of society by educating the common man and allowing him to pull himself up). But I digress. This new “makeover” of the public library closely associated the library with the American government, becoming almost a branch agency of the government. It served as a place to inform citizens of where and how to enlist in the army, distributed patriotic propaganda (like bookmarks with national hymns), informed the government of suspicious patrons, and served as a center of knowledge for the community. The library took an active role in promoting and teaching about food conservation and its patriotic implications. The library enthusiastic to help out in any way it could, even if that meant diverging from its traditional values – like censorship. While I personally don’t agree with Wiegand that it was such an “ugly scar” on library history, it certainly didn’t align with typical library practices, emphasizing the large influence of government and patriotism on the library in WWI. Activism in the library was a central theme during the WWI era.
Becker
While the library’s reactions, role, and goals after Pearl Harbor and during World War II were not a total contrast to those during World War I, ample differences are clearly notable. Reactions to WWII involved more hysteria than WWI (like Pasadena’s blackout room), but that seems understandable since the circumstances were also very different – America was attacked on its own soil. Without a doubt, though, libraries remained important centers for information to the community – even as access to traveling libraries dwindled. The ALA hoped to serve a “vital social purpose” as a “war information center” as citizens began flooding the library with very diverse inquiries about war concerns. The librarian had to become a walking center of knowledge within the library, able to answer this wide variety of questions and promote a “civilian morale.”
Nevertheless, the library’s role was much less active than passive when compared with WWI. While WWI boosted librarian professionalism and overall importance, after Pearl Harbor librarians struggled for recognition of the library’s purpose. ALA leadership realized the advantage in establishing a “concrete tie to the war effort,” otherwise recognition and an appropriate budget looked dim. Government agencies like OFF continuously denied library funding and attempts to link up to the war effort. Unlike WWI, though, librarians seemed to be trying to exploit the war crisis for their own advantage, as referenced by Duke librarian John Lund. Still, other librarians criticized the rush to the war bandwagon, insisting that the library should instead stick to their traditional purposes. Viewing the library hysteria as an overreaction, Stanley Kunitz advised keeping cool and calm and simply attending to the job. In Becker’s article, such disconnect in librarian attitudes contrasts sharply with Wiegand’s portrayal of WWI Wisconsin librarians as a united front along with the government.
Becker 2
In the beginning Becker points out that when a country is at war, “new rules apply.” Thinking back to this week’s first article by Wayne Wiegand, the library definitely underwent a change in function, but moreover broke one of the “key” tenets of library ideology – a disdain for censorship. The circumstances of war brought what Wiegand calls a “tumultuous chapter” in library history. Similarly, Becker points out the extra burdens placed on libraries during WWII. Hit with new requests about military and naval science, for example, the library was often unable to meet these demands. In contrast, though, the government – particularly under conservative enemies of President Roosevelt – would not increase most library budget to meet the needs of libraries. However, the spread of information regarding the war was a key priority of the government.
Still, the library trudged on and did what it could. I found it really interesting that the Chicago Public Library helped non-English speakers with letters to their sons overseas, showing the wide range of activity the library took on during the era. In the more symbolic sense, I think the libraries were actually at the forefront of the war, especially with consideration to Germany and the Nazi party. Becker includes propaganda about books being “weapons in the war of ideas.” In essence, the caption notes, the war as an ideological one between fascism and democracy. Perhaps the library was not recognized for its importance in this aspect, but the power of books and information in public opinion formation was key. As noted by Becker in more recent times, libraries adapt to the national situation to provide visible sections on areas of recent interest – using her local library’s display of books on Islam and foreign policy as an example. Despite deserved recognition, Becker asserts that “thousands of wartime public libraries were important – even essential – to the millions of Americans of all ages who visited their facilities…”
Knuth
I had a very hard time reading this article due to the blatant political messages and accusation throughout the piece, and I think a lot of Knuth’s arguments/statements are a political overreach that procure unsound conclusions. When she first claims that the United States’ failure to “provide security for Iraq’s institutions was not outright libricide” then later asserts “the powerful messages of angst” are sent through library destruction, I think this fails to provide connection. Certainly there may be some overlap in her claims, but by no means an outright, direct correlation. An interesting opposition of ideas between Knuth and Becker’s second article relates to biblioclasm, more specifically the burning of books. Knuth claims that without documented knowledge tied to a specific place and group, one can strangle a civilization. Becker, on the other hand, found an important piece of wartime propaganda to be “Books cannot be killed by fire.” While I think both authors are correct in one sense, culture lives through the people, and cannot be so easily destroyed.
I do not want to dwell on political issues though, as I don’t think that is the focus of our class. Regardless, the preservation of cultural artifacts – documents, books, etc. – is a very important aspect not only of a culture and civilization, but for world humanity. As different cultures adapt to changing times and circumstances, the ability to reflect and look back on it historically is an important foundation. Primary sources are vital in the academic realm, and preservation of such has always been of central significance. Moreover, these preserved artifacts – books included – facilitate the understanding of lengthy textual works and historical data/events that cannot be tapped into electronically from anywhere, at any time, by anyone. They are a rare glimpse back into the true natures of times long gone, and it is essential we continue to recognize their significance.
Wiegand
One of the most striking aspects of Wiegand’s article was the dramatic shift in the library’s role – or at least perceived role. While their overall purpose as an institution remained the same (to provide the public with resources and information), other changes and shifts that occurred in the World War I era seem too dramatic to go unnoticed. No longer was the library a passive place where people went when they felt like finding information or a good book – now it was an active participant in American culture, society, and daily life… a sharp contrast from the stereotypical view (both historically and today) of the public library.
Once neutrality was broken by entering the war, the public library became a beacon of patriotism and aligned with the government in every way it could. Wiegand explains that they “relied upon the sentiment of the American public to carry forward their self-perceived war activities.” Another interesting point – in many of our readings it seems the public library has grand ideals and impressions of itself and its role in society, when in reality its true impact was far less (like being the saviors of society by educating the common man and allowing him to pull himself up). But I digress. This new “makeover” of the public library closely associated the library with the American government, becoming almost a branch agency of the government. It served as a place to inform citizens of where and how to enlist in the army, distributed patriotic propaganda (like bookmarks with national hymns), informed the government of suspicious patrons, and served as a center of knowledge for the community. The library took an active role in promoting and teaching about food conservation and its patriotic implications. The library enthusiastic to help out in any way it could, even if that meant diverging from its traditional values – like censorship. While I personally don’t agree with Wiegand that it was such an “ugly scar” on library history, it certainly didn’t align with typical library practices, emphasizing the large influence of government and patriotism on the library in WWI. Activism in the library was a central theme during the WWI era.
Becker
While the library’s reactions, role, and goals after Pearl Harbor and during World War II were not a total contrast to those during World War I, ample differences are clearly notable. Reactions to WWII involved more hysteria than WWI (like Pasadena’s blackout room), but that seems understandable since the circumstances were also very different – America was attacked on its own soil. Without a doubt, though, libraries remained important centers for information to the community – even as access to traveling libraries dwindled. The ALA hoped to serve a “vital social purpose” as a “war information center” as citizens began flooding the library with very diverse inquiries about war concerns. The librarian had to become a walking center of knowledge within the library, able to answer this wide variety of questions and promote a “civilian morale.”
Nevertheless, the library’s role was much less active than passive when compared with WWI. While WWI boosted librarian professionalism and overall importance, after Pearl Harbor librarians struggled for recognition of the library’s purpose. ALA leadership realized the advantage in establishing a “concrete tie to the war effort,” otherwise recognition and an appropriate budget looked dim. Government agencies like OFF continuously denied library funding and attempts to link up to the war effort. Unlike WWI, though, librarians seemed to be trying to exploit the war crisis for their own advantage, as referenced by Duke librarian John Lund. Still, other librarians criticized the rush to the war bandwagon, insisting that the library should instead stick to their traditional purposes. Viewing the library hysteria as an overreaction, Stanley Kunitz advised keeping cool and calm and simply attending to the job. In Becker’s article, such disconnect in librarian attitudes contrasts sharply with Wiegand’s portrayal of WWI Wisconsin librarians as a united front along with the government.
Becker 2
In the beginning Becker points out that when a country is at war, “new rules apply.” Thinking back to this week’s first article by Wayne Wiegand, the library definitely underwent a change in function, but moreover broke one of the “key” tenets of library ideology – a disdain for censorship. The circumstances of war brought what Wiegand calls a “tumultuous chapter” in library history. Similarly, Becker points out the extra burdens placed on libraries during WWII. Hit with new requests about military and naval science, for example, the library was often unable to meet these demands. In contrast, though, the government – particularly under conservative enemies of President Roosevelt – would not increase most library budget to meet the needs of libraries. However, the spread of information regarding the war was a key priority of the government.
Still, the library trudged on and did what it could. I found it really interesting that the Chicago Public Library helped non-English speakers with letters to their sons overseas, showing the wide range of activity the library took on during the era. In the more symbolic sense, I think the libraries were actually at the forefront of the war, especially with consideration to Germany and the Nazi party. Becker includes propaganda about books being “weapons in the war of ideas.” In essence, the caption notes, the war as an ideological one between fascism and democracy. Perhaps the library was not recognized for its importance in this aspect, but the power of books and information in public opinion formation was key. As noted by Becker in more recent times, libraries adapt to the national situation to provide visible sections on areas of recent interest – using her local library’s display of books on Islam and foreign policy as an example. Despite deserved recognition, Becker asserts that “thousands of wartime public libraries were important – even essential – to the millions of Americans of all ages who visited their facilities…”
Knuth
I had a very hard time reading this article due to the blatant political messages and accusation throughout the piece, and I think a lot of Knuth’s arguments/statements are a political overreach that procure unsound conclusions. When she first claims that the United States’ failure to “provide security for Iraq’s institutions was not outright libricide” then later asserts “the powerful messages of angst” are sent through library destruction, I think this fails to provide connection. Certainly there may be some overlap in her claims, but by no means an outright, direct correlation. An interesting opposition of ideas between Knuth and Becker’s second article relates to biblioclasm, more specifically the burning of books. Knuth claims that without documented knowledge tied to a specific place and group, one can strangle a civilization. Becker, on the other hand, found an important piece of wartime propaganda to be “Books cannot be killed by fire.” While I think both authors are correct in one sense, culture lives through the people, and cannot be so easily destroyed.
I do not want to dwell on political issues though, as I don’t think that is the focus of our class. Regardless, the preservation of cultural artifacts – documents, books, etc. – is a very important aspect not only of a culture and civilization, but for world humanity. As different cultures adapt to changing times and circumstances, the ability to reflect and look back on it historically is an important foundation. Primary sources are vital in the academic realm, and preservation of such has always been of central significance. Moreover, these preserved artifacts – books included – facilitate the understanding of lengthy textual works and historical data/events that cannot be tapped into electronically from anywhere, at any time, by anyone. They are a rare glimpse back into the true natures of times long gone, and it is essential we continue to recognize their significance.
Reading for 26 Feb: Free to All
Abigail Van Slyck, in her book Free to All: Carnegie Libraries and American Culture, takes an innovative approach to study Carnegie libraries through their architecture and design. She sheds light on historic American culture between 1886 and 1917 by making architecture as the window to a cultural analysis of American towns and cities. A seemingly simple institution, Van Slyck notes how “we expect neither drama nor excitement [from the Carnegie library],” for they seem “neither threatening nor eccentric” (xix). However, as she demonstrates throughout the course of her book, Carneglie libraries are not well understood, and the myths surrounding them distort the truth they represent. Through the study of architecture, Van Slyck affirms, we can gain a more “balanced interpretation” of the Carnegie library and gives us multiple angles from which we may view the larger cultural landscape. Overall, Van Slyck effectively guides readers through the architectural significane of Carnegie libraries and their long-term – yet dynamic and ever-evolving – effect on the cities they called home, and on American culture at large.
Van Slyck discusses Carnegie’s philanthropy and pokes holes in the misguided intentions library was told over and over again becoming solidified into a mythical version that manipulated the facts to serve a business and rhetorical purpose (9). The holes in Carnegie’s story foreshadow the obscured truth that Van Slyck reveals behind his library buildings themselves. This paternalistic philanthropy often “required both benefactor and recipient to address each other with exaggerated graciousness” and imposed eternal debt and gratitude on the recipients that had not asked to incur such a debt (2). After all, with such a generous donation, no municipality would ever be able to actually repay it. James Bertram later tried to remedy this affliction by making the “donor’s presence… substantially less palpable” and removing fireplaces from his plans in order to reduce the chance of creating a “hearth as shrine to benefactor” (41). Moreover, Carnegie’s philanthropic donations were not happily accepted everywhere – so began the controversy of “tainted money.” The claim went that by accepting illegally or unethically obtained money, the acceptor would condone the wrongdoings done in making the tainted money (19). Other unwelcoming cities cited moral reasons for declining money along the same lines.
The cultural stories behind Carnegie libraries, though, take place both within and beyond the buildings’ walls. Van Slyck moves to use the libraries as a demonstration of the actors who made them work: businesses, club women, library staff, and other outside players. She provides a strong analysis of the negotiations among the librarians, architects, furniture dealers, local cultural associations, and other business groups. The librarian-architect debate clashed over the design of the library. Librarian service needs often did not match up with architects’ design desires. As librarians emerged as a force in the library’s design after the ALA’s establishment, librarians spoke out against the traditional library of architects, resulting in a “long and intesnse battle between architects and librarians over which professional group should prevail in matters of library planning” (5). The Library Bureau itself expressed eagerness to “confer with architects concerning details of heating, lighting, ventilation, and fixtures as applied to special needs of the libraries” and even created the Furniture Department to provide such needs (48). Unfortunately, architects often ignored their offer, particularly in the beginning of the era. The outside design of libraries, Van Slyck demonstrates, opens up a new insight into Carnegie libraries and the secrets they hold about American culture. Instead of making them more welcoming to working-class users and able to be supported by their tax dollars, a two-tier system was adopted where a grand central library in an ideal setting was built in addition to modest branch libraries in the neighborhoods where the working-class resided (79). Such a conflict over architecture effectively demonstrates the class tension centered around library use. Previous articles from class discuss elitism in the library and the social control they attempted to command. Van Slyck’s portrayal of the architecture debate only heightens this point.
In chapter five, Van Slyck discusses the implications of feminization on the library profession. Women in the library profession were a way to provide cheap labor. Male library leaders often marginalized the female librarian by placing her work station in the center of the library, surrounded by “a material world intended to hem in her ambition and her achievement” (200). However, female actors within the Carnegie library transcended these barriers and lobbied for change, making the paternalistic design obsolete. Librarians were able to make “more drastic changes in the form of their libraries,” and female librarians took this to their advantage (179). Architecture was not always able to dominate the female librarian, and the Carnegie library demonstrates this change over time. In discussing children, Van Slyck’s admittedly limited evidence still provides interesting insight into the child of the Carnegie library (203). Although the experience of a few children do not establish a definite reality of library practice, that is not to say their stories are unique nor that other children did not have similar experiences. Moreover, it is no question that the public library historically held a degree of social control over its patrons – forcing them to conform their behavior to expected ideals, and the Carnegie library design facilitated librarians control over the child patron.
The walls of an institution hold many secrets, and the Carnegie library is not exception. However, through a little bit of careful investigation, these secrets are revealed and act has posters and pathways to American culture at the turn of the century. Abigail Van Slyck effectively guides readers along these pathways, demonstrating the high degree of information across many disciplines one can learn from the study of architecture. Not only does she illustrate that “Carnegie libraries were self-consciously designed to encourage a process of social and cultural transformation,” but she reveals that transformation both within and beyond the Carnegie library (216).
Van Slyck discusses Carnegie’s philanthropy and pokes holes in the misguided intentions library was told over and over again becoming solidified into a mythical version that manipulated the facts to serve a business and rhetorical purpose (9). The holes in Carnegie’s story foreshadow the obscured truth that Van Slyck reveals behind his library buildings themselves. This paternalistic philanthropy often “required both benefactor and recipient to address each other with exaggerated graciousness” and imposed eternal debt and gratitude on the recipients that had not asked to incur such a debt (2). After all, with such a generous donation, no municipality would ever be able to actually repay it. James Bertram later tried to remedy this affliction by making the “donor’s presence… substantially less palpable” and removing fireplaces from his plans in order to reduce the chance of creating a “hearth as shrine to benefactor” (41). Moreover, Carnegie’s philanthropic donations were not happily accepted everywhere – so began the controversy of “tainted money.” The claim went that by accepting illegally or unethically obtained money, the acceptor would condone the wrongdoings done in making the tainted money (19). Other unwelcoming cities cited moral reasons for declining money along the same lines.
The cultural stories behind Carnegie libraries, though, take place both within and beyond the buildings’ walls. Van Slyck moves to use the libraries as a demonstration of the actors who made them work: businesses, club women, library staff, and other outside players. She provides a strong analysis of the negotiations among the librarians, architects, furniture dealers, local cultural associations, and other business groups. The librarian-architect debate clashed over the design of the library. Librarian service needs often did not match up with architects’ design desires. As librarians emerged as a force in the library’s design after the ALA’s establishment, librarians spoke out against the traditional library of architects, resulting in a “long and intesnse battle between architects and librarians over which professional group should prevail in matters of library planning” (5). The Library Bureau itself expressed eagerness to “confer with architects concerning details of heating, lighting, ventilation, and fixtures as applied to special needs of the libraries” and even created the Furniture Department to provide such needs (48). Unfortunately, architects often ignored their offer, particularly in the beginning of the era. The outside design of libraries, Van Slyck demonstrates, opens up a new insight into Carnegie libraries and the secrets they hold about American culture. Instead of making them more welcoming to working-class users and able to be supported by their tax dollars, a two-tier system was adopted where a grand central library in an ideal setting was built in addition to modest branch libraries in the neighborhoods where the working-class resided (79). Such a conflict over architecture effectively demonstrates the class tension centered around library use. Previous articles from class discuss elitism in the library and the social control they attempted to command. Van Slyck’s portrayal of the architecture debate only heightens this point.
In chapter five, Van Slyck discusses the implications of feminization on the library profession. Women in the library profession were a way to provide cheap labor. Male library leaders often marginalized the female librarian by placing her work station in the center of the library, surrounded by “a material world intended to hem in her ambition and her achievement” (200). However, female actors within the Carnegie library transcended these barriers and lobbied for change, making the paternalistic design obsolete. Librarians were able to make “more drastic changes in the form of their libraries,” and female librarians took this to their advantage (179). Architecture was not always able to dominate the female librarian, and the Carnegie library demonstrates this change over time. In discussing children, Van Slyck’s admittedly limited evidence still provides interesting insight into the child of the Carnegie library (203). Although the experience of a few children do not establish a definite reality of library practice, that is not to say their stories are unique nor that other children did not have similar experiences. Moreover, it is no question that the public library historically held a degree of social control over its patrons – forcing them to conform their behavior to expected ideals, and the Carnegie library design facilitated librarians control over the child patron.
The walls of an institution hold many secrets, and the Carnegie library is not exception. However, through a little bit of careful investigation, these secrets are revealed and act has posters and pathways to American culture at the turn of the century. Abigail Van Slyck effectively guides readers along these pathways, demonstrating the high degree of information across many disciplines one can learn from the study of architecture. Not only does she illustrate that “Carnegie libraries were self-consciously designed to encourage a process of social and cultural transformation,” but she reveals that transformation both within and beyond the Carnegie library (216).
Articles for 19 Feb
Fain
This article, focusing mostly on the immigrant in East Coast libraries, was fascinating. I was home in Chicago this past weekend and noticed striking similarities – as well as some contrasts – in the way librarians in the article seemed to work with immigrants and the way Chicago libraries did so. Fain notes deliberate attempts of librarians to attract immigrants, which held true in Chicago as well, but the superiority in tone in Fain’s article did not seem so apparent in the Chicago Public Library. Still, library focus in Chicago on the immigrant seemed to be highest in the World War II era, whereas it came earlier on the East Coast. In Chicago, looking through the annual reports of various library branches, the libraries seemed very eager to work with immigrants and invite them into the library – holding forums with relevant issues on Europe and American culture, providing speakers and leaders for various book groups in different languages, and offering advertisements and booklists of all new books received in foreign languages. The overall sentiment seemed much more positive in the annual reports than Fain’s article; nevertheless, as these sources are of a very different type from different perspectives, it is important to realize that such differences may be more natural in historical context.
In both New York and Chicago, children were the leading force of the immigrant-library relationship. Librarians at the northwest Chicago Toman branch would pass out mimeographed lists of foreign books to immigrant children in the library, in hopes that they would be passed on to the parents to come in and select on their own. Fain’s article indicates that assimilation of new immigrants was a national problem, while Chicago annual reports suggested that immigrant attraction was more for the library’s interest in maintaining adequate circulation and community presence – especially in areas with heavy immigrant concentration. Towards the end of the article, the excerpts about how the library impacted immigrants’ lives were fascinating. It is nice to see that despite some of the seemingly negative attitudes within the library, it was still able to serve its immigrant patrons and make a difference in their lives. In this way, the public library seems to be quite different than the national scene of immigration opinion at the time.
Pawley
The idea of actual access to libraries is an important distinction in ways libraries were historically able to serve patrons. In the beginning of the twentieth century, half of the Chicago population would have to walk miles after riding street cars, just to get to a library branch or deposit station. It was not until 1916 that a new, more accessible system was proposed to increase access. During Pawley’s scope of the article, Wisconsin’s method of accessing very rural patrons (in a state obviously much more rural and sparsely populated than a large, dense city like Chicago) was very innovative. The traveling library was able to act much like urban branch libraries today – better able to understand the specific community better than the large Main library. By understanding the demographic makeup of certain rural communities, libraries could better serve the needs of these residents. Although the structure of the public library may seem so simple today, the innovation and organization behind it throughout history is really quite astonishing. The work of Ms Stearns truly shows the hard work and thought that went into it.
In a time of rural isolation and a poor postal system, access to libraries for many Wisconsnites seemed impossible. Leaders in the traveling library movement saw them as a step to establishing permanent libraries – much in the way the branch library works today. Often stereotyped as less intelligent, these rural residents were very eager to receive library material once it became accessible, lending to the library’s traditional purpose of a “poor man’s university.” Still, private correspondence revealed that idea of what constituted “good” reading and the difficulty of making people read it. Despite such sentiment, the good intentions and helpful access provided by these library leaders was unrivaled. In a time when the library’s supposed goal seemed so important on the national scale, it was surprising to read about the petty political barriers Stearns faced as a progressive woman. Thankfully technology diminished rural isolation over the years, but Stearns truly was in innovator in the library access movement.
Molz & Dain
This article, though steeped in a historical era, seemed to have parallels to today. The two opposing camps of building book collections – on appealing to popular culture versus providing “good” books to diffuse knowledge – seems similar to today’s debate on the library becoming to commercial/capitalist. As the authors mention, public libraries have never really resolved this dichotomy. Once again, the article revolves back to this idea of the “ideal vs. reality.” Although the library professed that it was geared toward the concept of “service to everyone,” the reality was a bit obscured in that most library users were middle class and better educated. That is not to say there weren’t people within the library profession – like Lutie Stearns from our previous article – but on the whole there was a deep hole in library access.
The new statement better integrated the need of being unique to a given community. The branch library system was better able to provide this kind of service, as they had a more specific focus. Instead of trying to serve an incredibly diverse and large urban area, librarians could narrow the community down to specific neighborhoods. With technology butting in and money concerns facing the library, this emphasis on the patron as customer emerged. The demand vs. quality issue came up as well. Still, librarians’ being able to decide what is considered appropriate material brings up the issue of freedom/access to information and censorship. The library is very quick to shun censorship, but many of the debates within the library often indirectly lend to it. Ambivalence and new problematic dichotomies have arisen today with the digital world taking off, and undoubtedly the library will never be done facing new problems, but this article could give some historical insight into how one may deal with them.
This article, focusing mostly on the immigrant in East Coast libraries, was fascinating. I was home in Chicago this past weekend and noticed striking similarities – as well as some contrasts – in the way librarians in the article seemed to work with immigrants and the way Chicago libraries did so. Fain notes deliberate attempts of librarians to attract immigrants, which held true in Chicago as well, but the superiority in tone in Fain’s article did not seem so apparent in the Chicago Public Library. Still, library focus in Chicago on the immigrant seemed to be highest in the World War II era, whereas it came earlier on the East Coast. In Chicago, looking through the annual reports of various library branches, the libraries seemed very eager to work with immigrants and invite them into the library – holding forums with relevant issues on Europe and American culture, providing speakers and leaders for various book groups in different languages, and offering advertisements and booklists of all new books received in foreign languages. The overall sentiment seemed much more positive in the annual reports than Fain’s article; nevertheless, as these sources are of a very different type from different perspectives, it is important to realize that such differences may be more natural in historical context.
In both New York and Chicago, children were the leading force of the immigrant-library relationship. Librarians at the northwest Chicago Toman branch would pass out mimeographed lists of foreign books to immigrant children in the library, in hopes that they would be passed on to the parents to come in and select on their own. Fain’s article indicates that assimilation of new immigrants was a national problem, while Chicago annual reports suggested that immigrant attraction was more for the library’s interest in maintaining adequate circulation and community presence – especially in areas with heavy immigrant concentration. Towards the end of the article, the excerpts about how the library impacted immigrants’ lives were fascinating. It is nice to see that despite some of the seemingly negative attitudes within the library, it was still able to serve its immigrant patrons and make a difference in their lives. In this way, the public library seems to be quite different than the national scene of immigration opinion at the time.
Pawley
The idea of actual access to libraries is an important distinction in ways libraries were historically able to serve patrons. In the beginning of the twentieth century, half of the Chicago population would have to walk miles after riding street cars, just to get to a library branch or deposit station. It was not until 1916 that a new, more accessible system was proposed to increase access. During Pawley’s scope of the article, Wisconsin’s method of accessing very rural patrons (in a state obviously much more rural and sparsely populated than a large, dense city like Chicago) was very innovative. The traveling library was able to act much like urban branch libraries today – better able to understand the specific community better than the large Main library. By understanding the demographic makeup of certain rural communities, libraries could better serve the needs of these residents. Although the structure of the public library may seem so simple today, the innovation and organization behind it throughout history is really quite astonishing. The work of Ms Stearns truly shows the hard work and thought that went into it.
In a time of rural isolation and a poor postal system, access to libraries for many Wisconsnites seemed impossible. Leaders in the traveling library movement saw them as a step to establishing permanent libraries – much in the way the branch library works today. Often stereotyped as less intelligent, these rural residents were very eager to receive library material once it became accessible, lending to the library’s traditional purpose of a “poor man’s university.” Still, private correspondence revealed that idea of what constituted “good” reading and the difficulty of making people read it. Despite such sentiment, the good intentions and helpful access provided by these library leaders was unrivaled. In a time when the library’s supposed goal seemed so important on the national scale, it was surprising to read about the petty political barriers Stearns faced as a progressive woman. Thankfully technology diminished rural isolation over the years, but Stearns truly was in innovator in the library access movement.
Molz & Dain
This article, though steeped in a historical era, seemed to have parallels to today. The two opposing camps of building book collections – on appealing to popular culture versus providing “good” books to diffuse knowledge – seems similar to today’s debate on the library becoming to commercial/capitalist. As the authors mention, public libraries have never really resolved this dichotomy. Once again, the article revolves back to this idea of the “ideal vs. reality.” Although the library professed that it was geared toward the concept of “service to everyone,” the reality was a bit obscured in that most library users were middle class and better educated. That is not to say there weren’t people within the library profession – like Lutie Stearns from our previous article – but on the whole there was a deep hole in library access.
The new statement better integrated the need of being unique to a given community. The branch library system was better able to provide this kind of service, as they had a more specific focus. Instead of trying to serve an incredibly diverse and large urban area, librarians could narrow the community down to specific neighborhoods. With technology butting in and money concerns facing the library, this emphasis on the patron as customer emerged. The demand vs. quality issue came up as well. Still, librarians’ being able to decide what is considered appropriate material brings up the issue of freedom/access to information and censorship. The library is very quick to shun censorship, but many of the debates within the library often indirectly lend to it. Ambivalence and new problematic dichotomies have arisen today with the digital world taking off, and undoubtedly the library will never be done facing new problems, but this article could give some historical insight into how one may deal with them.
Reading for 12 Feb: Apostles of Culture
Dee Garrison’s Apostles of Culture: the Public Librarian and American Society, 1876-1920 offers an insightful development of the librarian within the public library setting in the United States. She hits key issues of the library – like the addition of fiction to the collection – while also offering a glimpse at aspects many people would otherwise overlook – like the erratic character of Melvil Dewey. Historically – and contemporaneously – librarians have been or are viewed ad preservers of culture that motivate intellectual exploration. At the same time, as Garrison points out, the librarian profession has been marginalized as a semi-professional career choice. The role of the librarian in American society continues to raise question and concern in discussions today, and Garrison shines light on the origins of many of those discussions. Although at times some of her claims seem a bit far out and the book somewhat disjointed, her research and writing makes for an enjoyable and perceptive read.
Divided into four parts, Garrison’s first part tackles the genteel, missionary culture of the early public library. The gentry, at this point in American history, sought ways to maintain a social control in a changing and evolving society. As Garrison claims, they were “never comfortable in industrial America, [and] viewed themselves as saviors of society” (10). Having lost control of many economic and political affairs, the cultural sphere was the only one left, and the public library was the ideal opportunity by which to seize it. On this point Garrison is in agreement with many library historians, though I wish she explained this loss of control a bit earlier in the section. Quite possibly not writing to the political history crowd, the important role that the Industrial Revolution played on American class society cannot be overlooked and plays an important role in this genteel cultural control. Also in this section Garrison provides thirty-six quick socioeconomic biographies of early librarians, which seemed almost unnecessary. While they supported her point, it seemed like it could have been done much more concisely.
Part two discusses the dilemma of fiction in the public library. Much discussed by many authors in the profession, early librarians felt a need to control the content the public read and to which they had access. Feeling that most fiction (romance novels in particular) was a harm to society (elites pushing their cultural values through the library…?), librarians tried to push “better” material on its readers. After an almost unnecessarily detailed discussion of Victorian literature, Garrison goes on to discuss the shifting attitudes on the subject within the library. Noting the gradually increasing acceptance of fiction, Garrison relates it to a “changing perception of the institution’s social purpose” (89). However, claiming that this shift went from educational to “the supply of reading for recreation only” seems a bit extreme. Rather, it seems that the library struck a balance, allowing for the reading of fiction, but never abandoning its original purpose as provider of information and place for intellectual curiosity.
Admittedly, I am somewhat ambivalent about part three on Melvil Dewey. While I never knew anything about him except for his creation of the Dewey Decimal System, the insight into his character was certainly stimulating. As someone who has had such a large impact in the library with his classification system and establishment of library schools, it is important that people know a bit about him… definitely breaks with the stereotype of the quiet, passive librarian. At the same time, some of the information she provided seemed almost unfounded, using a bit too much of the psychoanalytic scientific terms. Still, the overall point was expressed even if it was a tad dressed up.
Part four, however, did not convince me. Now, I am an ardent anti-feminist but I was unable to find most her thesis valid in this section. To begin with, she accuses women librarians of contributing to the “domesticity imposed upon [them]” (179). She wants us to believe that because women did not “openly question sex roles,” it was impossible for them to be viewed as “disciplined intellects” (185). However, these women were not living in contemporary society and were in fact marginalized through a cultural norm. Fighting something like this would very likely have cost them their jobs, and I do not believe Garrison is in a place to judge that the rights of women and a few extra dollars should have been more important to them than making a living and living comfortably. Moreover, she later goes on to claim that women played an important role in the progressive era (196). While these two parts of the puzzle can reconcile with each other to some degree, this claim does not seem to go well with Garrison’s prime thesis of blaming women librarians. She discusses the tedious work involved in librarianship, so perhaps we should be blaming Dewey for college-educating women to do filing. Taking such a modern perspective – or even one in the time or Rosie the Riveter – seems unfair.
Overall, while Garrison’s book was an interesting read, some of her arguments seem a bit weak to me. My main issue with the book was the disjointed nature of the writing. The four parts stood as separate essays that could stand alone independent of one another. I do not see how they contributed to an overall point in the book, and wished she had at least connected them a little better. Nevertheless, despite the weaknesses in the book, it was educational and worth the read.
Divided into four parts, Garrison’s first part tackles the genteel, missionary culture of the early public library. The gentry, at this point in American history, sought ways to maintain a social control in a changing and evolving society. As Garrison claims, they were “never comfortable in industrial America, [and] viewed themselves as saviors of society” (10). Having lost control of many economic and political affairs, the cultural sphere was the only one left, and the public library was the ideal opportunity by which to seize it. On this point Garrison is in agreement with many library historians, though I wish she explained this loss of control a bit earlier in the section. Quite possibly not writing to the political history crowd, the important role that the Industrial Revolution played on American class society cannot be overlooked and plays an important role in this genteel cultural control. Also in this section Garrison provides thirty-six quick socioeconomic biographies of early librarians, which seemed almost unnecessary. While they supported her point, it seemed like it could have been done much more concisely.
Part two discusses the dilemma of fiction in the public library. Much discussed by many authors in the profession, early librarians felt a need to control the content the public read and to which they had access. Feeling that most fiction (romance novels in particular) was a harm to society (elites pushing their cultural values through the library…?), librarians tried to push “better” material on its readers. After an almost unnecessarily detailed discussion of Victorian literature, Garrison goes on to discuss the shifting attitudes on the subject within the library. Noting the gradually increasing acceptance of fiction, Garrison relates it to a “changing perception of the institution’s social purpose” (89). However, claiming that this shift went from educational to “the supply of reading for recreation only” seems a bit extreme. Rather, it seems that the library struck a balance, allowing for the reading of fiction, but never abandoning its original purpose as provider of information and place for intellectual curiosity.
Admittedly, I am somewhat ambivalent about part three on Melvil Dewey. While I never knew anything about him except for his creation of the Dewey Decimal System, the insight into his character was certainly stimulating. As someone who has had such a large impact in the library with his classification system and establishment of library schools, it is important that people know a bit about him… definitely breaks with the stereotype of the quiet, passive librarian. At the same time, some of the information she provided seemed almost unfounded, using a bit too much of the psychoanalytic scientific terms. Still, the overall point was expressed even if it was a tad dressed up.
Part four, however, did not convince me. Now, I am an ardent anti-feminist but I was unable to find most her thesis valid in this section. To begin with, she accuses women librarians of contributing to the “domesticity imposed upon [them]” (179). She wants us to believe that because women did not “openly question sex roles,” it was impossible for them to be viewed as “disciplined intellects” (185). However, these women were not living in contemporary society and were in fact marginalized through a cultural norm. Fighting something like this would very likely have cost them their jobs, and I do not believe Garrison is in a place to judge that the rights of women and a few extra dollars should have been more important to them than making a living and living comfortably. Moreover, she later goes on to claim that women played an important role in the progressive era (196). While these two parts of the puzzle can reconcile with each other to some degree, this claim does not seem to go well with Garrison’s prime thesis of blaming women librarians. She discusses the tedious work involved in librarianship, so perhaps we should be blaming Dewey for college-educating women to do filing. Taking such a modern perspective – or even one in the time or Rosie the Riveter – seems unfair.
Overall, while Garrison’s book was an interesting read, some of her arguments seem a bit weak to me. My main issue with the book was the disjointed nature of the writing. The four parts stood as separate essays that could stand alone independent of one another. I do not see how they contributed to an overall point in the book, and wished she had at least connected them a little better. Nevertheless, despite the weaknesses in the book, it was educational and worth the read.
Articles for 5 Feb
Articles for 5 Feb
Perkins
I found this article absolutely fascinating, truly a first-hand account glimpse into the past and what library science truly used to be like. Reading this article with its time period in mind – such as the elite, condescending tone – further pushes the argument made in last week’s article by Christine Pawley. Perkins brings up (intentionally or unintentionally) the metaphor of a business in relating it to the library, which seems to hold to the library start-up quite well. In trying to organize the early bureaucracy and operations the library truly had to take on a task oriented around business procedures.
In the first part of the article, Perkins seems to dive deeply into the moral importance within literature. Bringing his condescending tone to a new height, he seems to disdain other cultures and nationalities for their impurity in literature – the English Christians or modern French. The librarian, therefore, has the utmost responsibility to prevent dirtying literature from “befouling” the minds of the public and “define the line beyond which readers must not be indulged.” His critique here brings out the class nature of the early library. They were trying to reach “the masses” to further educate them, yet at the same time acted so superior that it is no wonder these “masses” of people felt uncomfortable or unworthy of utilizing the public library. Literature itself was put into a hierarchy, reflecting the rigid – and at times threatening – hierarchy of classes that existed within late 19th century society. He brings back the business metaphor in the next section discussing management, but there is no escaping the tone that remains, noting the “helpless nuisances” that might come in unsure of what they want to find.
Nevertheless, looking at the facts of the material, Perkins helps readers develop an idea of the early library foundations, and can see important elements that still make up the library today – seeking grants and public funding, issuance of library cards, etc. This article truly helps readers gain insight not only though the text, but by what one finds between the lines.
Ditzion
It was interesting to read a historical account of an earlier history. The social welfare and humanitarian aid (supposedly) provided by the public library seems to fit in well to the elite, superior sentiment of the library that seemed to exist in the previous Perkins article. The ideology behind the public library in the progressive movement makes sense – this probably refers to the positivist sentiment Wiegand spoke of in last week’s readings – yet in terms of practicality it seemed to reach far less people. Books acting as an escape from the difficulties of life seems hard to enact when librarians were so authoritative in what books would be permitted into the library’s circulation in the first place. Therefore, I would question how effective the library was at providing teens with books instead of gangs and drugs they could find on the street. If the library were to act as an alternate, respectable temptation, one would think the librarians should seem more welcoming and inviting than previous articles made them seem. The amount of “good” the library was supposed to bring through involvement with various organizations and groups is astounding – many different causes used the library approach to advance their cause, from temperance to pernicious literature. Still, I see where Wiegand made a point of the lack of diverse ideology within the library field if this seems to be the general consensus. Ditzion in her last paragraph at least notes the tendency of the library to overrate its own role. To say the least, the library certainly meant well, but just did not realize effective means of completing their intentions.
Harris
Harris makes an interesting note of the library’s superficial dedication to the common man. As “rigid inflexibility and arrogant authoritarianism” became rampant within the public library, it is no doubt that people became suspicious and turned off from the library supposedly aimed to help them. In Perkins’ article he too promotes the idea of the library as a humanitarian institution, yet through his tone and rhetoric contemporary readers get a sense of what Harris is talking about – the sheer authoritarian element of public libraries. Even librarians had to notice the shattering of their “social uplift” theory as the users who did come to the library did not advance from mundane fiction to more scholarly works. Within this realization, Harris makes an interesting point about immigrants not yet seen in other articles – they threat they posed. The turn of the century was a period when immigrants came to America in huge numbers, creating a hierarchy even within the “white” ethnicity – from British Anglo-Saxon descendents to Eastern Europeans to Jewish immigrants. The library, therefore, took part in this issue and rose to the challenge of eliminating this threat by “Americanizing” the newly arrived immigrant. Interestingly, as Harris points out, the immigrants were in fact the ones that demanded the library’s attention more than the librarian’s “conscious attitude” to help foreigners. Library history, particularly in its developing stages, seems to be full of dichotomies of contradictions like this. I think this will be something important to keep in mind as we read different authors – context of the article itself is a key factor in analyzing these articles.
Dain
I do not mean to focus so much on Christine Pawley’s article from last week, but again I think Dain’s article shows the strength of Pawley’s call for history within the LIS curriculum and field in general. Dain even admits in the beginning of her article that “library history has had too few useful facts as well as too little interpretations and that the sparsity of both is interrelated.” Indeed, a lack of solid fact on library history has led to decreased interpretations of it and therefore there are not many critical analyses within the field. Instead of necessarily disproving Harris’ argument, which seemed to be her foremost purpose, Dain shows Harris’ lack of supporting evidence and the necessity to look into historical context.
Dain notes that while Ticknor may not have been the liberal democrat some historical accounts have made him out to be, it certainly makes him “something other than a simple reactionary.” He chose the public library as a means of opening opportunities for the masses, instead of closing them in true aristocratic fashion. Furthermore, nobody is to say that governing library boards would necessarily have been more productive if more representative of the public, especially since the masses did not have time to organize and establish a library system – the elite were the only ones really able to take on the task. Her points are valid, but still they don’t disprove Harris’; they simply weaken his credibility. The bigger, underlying issue here is a lack of historical and contextual analysis within the realm of public library history. More studies and writings need to be around to present narrowed research on these key points. Consideration of the historical contexts in which these events took place would provide further analysis for these authors, such as when Dain argues that the rules and regulations of the library were not very steep in comparison to other institutions of the time. Scrutiny like this is essential to understanding the library in its developmental process and therefore its existence today. Perhaps the World Wars and the Depression were external factors diminishing library patronage instead of the librarians themselves, but merely suggesting this and not following through with detailed research on it is not enough. Dain does right by history by bringing up these points, but these points must be explored in further detail – either by Dain or others within the LIS field.
Fain
Fain points out the two divergent – and rather opposite – paths to explain the development of the public library. After reading the previous articles for this class, this seems almost reassuring, as it indicates the existence of multiple views/perspectives in regard to library history, something that previous articles made seem scarce. The fact that these multiple perspectives exist, and moreover that people are being critical of both, ensures a promising future for library scholarship.
Fain criticizes Harris’ excessive interpretations and extrapolations from texts that seem to be stretching the facts, “drawing conclusions… too sweeping for the slender bits of data on which they rest.” Granted, Harris’ response to Fain’s criticism seems more like a politician’s response – vague and avoiding the issue without responding to most direct criticisms yet maintaining the convention of remaining cordial and appreciative of the criticizing author. Still, as previous readings have suggested, there is a lack of research and information into library history, so new research must rely on interpretations of the facts. No doubt, the genteel class and the female gender had a large and shaping impact on the public library, and it is important to explore these factors. In concluding her rejoinder, Garrison makes an important argument about the importance of interpretation, noting that without interpretation, history is meaningless. Discourse and argumentation within the field is essential to developing scholarship, and this (collection of) article(s) is encouraging in that regard.
Garrison also makes an interesting note of a dissent within the gender roles of the library, suggesting that women’s social objectives were more closely related to reform efforts of conservatives in the “social purity” organizations of the era instead of social work as many have suggested. Her theory really does go hand in hand with Harris’ suggestion of elitist and authoritarian control over library development. The two diverge, however, as Harris asserts that authoritarianism never left the library while Garrison suggests a gradual energy shift inward where librarians focused more on “a quest for technical competence.” One of the great things about history, though, is that multiple – seemingly opposing – interpretations can all be accurate, simply from different perspectives. After having read the more pessimistic articles on library scholarship, this article seems a bit more optimistic in that regard.
Perkins
I found this article absolutely fascinating, truly a first-hand account glimpse into the past and what library science truly used to be like. Reading this article with its time period in mind – such as the elite, condescending tone – further pushes the argument made in last week’s article by Christine Pawley. Perkins brings up (intentionally or unintentionally) the metaphor of a business in relating it to the library, which seems to hold to the library start-up quite well. In trying to organize the early bureaucracy and operations the library truly had to take on a task oriented around business procedures.
In the first part of the article, Perkins seems to dive deeply into the moral importance within literature. Bringing his condescending tone to a new height, he seems to disdain other cultures and nationalities for their impurity in literature – the English Christians or modern French. The librarian, therefore, has the utmost responsibility to prevent dirtying literature from “befouling” the minds of the public and “define the line beyond which readers must not be indulged.” His critique here brings out the class nature of the early library. They were trying to reach “the masses” to further educate them, yet at the same time acted so superior that it is no wonder these “masses” of people felt uncomfortable or unworthy of utilizing the public library. Literature itself was put into a hierarchy, reflecting the rigid – and at times threatening – hierarchy of classes that existed within late 19th century society. He brings back the business metaphor in the next section discussing management, but there is no escaping the tone that remains, noting the “helpless nuisances” that might come in unsure of what they want to find.
Nevertheless, looking at the facts of the material, Perkins helps readers develop an idea of the early library foundations, and can see important elements that still make up the library today – seeking grants and public funding, issuance of library cards, etc. This article truly helps readers gain insight not only though the text, but by what one finds between the lines.
Ditzion
It was interesting to read a historical account of an earlier history. The social welfare and humanitarian aid (supposedly) provided by the public library seems to fit in well to the elite, superior sentiment of the library that seemed to exist in the previous Perkins article. The ideology behind the public library in the progressive movement makes sense – this probably refers to the positivist sentiment Wiegand spoke of in last week’s readings – yet in terms of practicality it seemed to reach far less people. Books acting as an escape from the difficulties of life seems hard to enact when librarians were so authoritative in what books would be permitted into the library’s circulation in the first place. Therefore, I would question how effective the library was at providing teens with books instead of gangs and drugs they could find on the street. If the library were to act as an alternate, respectable temptation, one would think the librarians should seem more welcoming and inviting than previous articles made them seem. The amount of “good” the library was supposed to bring through involvement with various organizations and groups is astounding – many different causes used the library approach to advance their cause, from temperance to pernicious literature. Still, I see where Wiegand made a point of the lack of diverse ideology within the library field if this seems to be the general consensus. Ditzion in her last paragraph at least notes the tendency of the library to overrate its own role. To say the least, the library certainly meant well, but just did not realize effective means of completing their intentions.
Harris
Harris makes an interesting note of the library’s superficial dedication to the common man. As “rigid inflexibility and arrogant authoritarianism” became rampant within the public library, it is no doubt that people became suspicious and turned off from the library supposedly aimed to help them. In Perkins’ article he too promotes the idea of the library as a humanitarian institution, yet through his tone and rhetoric contemporary readers get a sense of what Harris is talking about – the sheer authoritarian element of public libraries. Even librarians had to notice the shattering of their “social uplift” theory as the users who did come to the library did not advance from mundane fiction to more scholarly works. Within this realization, Harris makes an interesting point about immigrants not yet seen in other articles – they threat they posed. The turn of the century was a period when immigrants came to America in huge numbers, creating a hierarchy even within the “white” ethnicity – from British Anglo-Saxon descendents to Eastern Europeans to Jewish immigrants. The library, therefore, took part in this issue and rose to the challenge of eliminating this threat by “Americanizing” the newly arrived immigrant. Interestingly, as Harris points out, the immigrants were in fact the ones that demanded the library’s attention more than the librarian’s “conscious attitude” to help foreigners. Library history, particularly in its developing stages, seems to be full of dichotomies of contradictions like this. I think this will be something important to keep in mind as we read different authors – context of the article itself is a key factor in analyzing these articles.
Dain
I do not mean to focus so much on Christine Pawley’s article from last week, but again I think Dain’s article shows the strength of Pawley’s call for history within the LIS curriculum and field in general. Dain even admits in the beginning of her article that “library history has had too few useful facts as well as too little interpretations and that the sparsity of both is interrelated.” Indeed, a lack of solid fact on library history has led to decreased interpretations of it and therefore there are not many critical analyses within the field. Instead of necessarily disproving Harris’ argument, which seemed to be her foremost purpose, Dain shows Harris’ lack of supporting evidence and the necessity to look into historical context.
Dain notes that while Ticknor may not have been the liberal democrat some historical accounts have made him out to be, it certainly makes him “something other than a simple reactionary.” He chose the public library as a means of opening opportunities for the masses, instead of closing them in true aristocratic fashion. Furthermore, nobody is to say that governing library boards would necessarily have been more productive if more representative of the public, especially since the masses did not have time to organize and establish a library system – the elite were the only ones really able to take on the task. Her points are valid, but still they don’t disprove Harris’; they simply weaken his credibility. The bigger, underlying issue here is a lack of historical and contextual analysis within the realm of public library history. More studies and writings need to be around to present narrowed research on these key points. Consideration of the historical contexts in which these events took place would provide further analysis for these authors, such as when Dain argues that the rules and regulations of the library were not very steep in comparison to other institutions of the time. Scrutiny like this is essential to understanding the library in its developmental process and therefore its existence today. Perhaps the World Wars and the Depression were external factors diminishing library patronage instead of the librarians themselves, but merely suggesting this and not following through with detailed research on it is not enough. Dain does right by history by bringing up these points, but these points must be explored in further detail – either by Dain or others within the LIS field.
Fain
Fain points out the two divergent – and rather opposite – paths to explain the development of the public library. After reading the previous articles for this class, this seems almost reassuring, as it indicates the existence of multiple views/perspectives in regard to library history, something that previous articles made seem scarce. The fact that these multiple perspectives exist, and moreover that people are being critical of both, ensures a promising future for library scholarship.
Fain criticizes Harris’ excessive interpretations and extrapolations from texts that seem to be stretching the facts, “drawing conclusions… too sweeping for the slender bits of data on which they rest.” Granted, Harris’ response to Fain’s criticism seems more like a politician’s response – vague and avoiding the issue without responding to most direct criticisms yet maintaining the convention of remaining cordial and appreciative of the criticizing author. Still, as previous readings have suggested, there is a lack of research and information into library history, so new research must rely on interpretations of the facts. No doubt, the genteel class and the female gender had a large and shaping impact on the public library, and it is important to explore these factors. In concluding her rejoinder, Garrison makes an important argument about the importance of interpretation, noting that without interpretation, history is meaningless. Discourse and argumentation within the field is essential to developing scholarship, and this (collection of) article(s) is encouraging in that regard.
Garrison also makes an interesting note of a dissent within the gender roles of the library, suggesting that women’s social objectives were more closely related to reform efforts of conservatives in the “social purity” organizations of the era instead of social work as many have suggested. Her theory really does go hand in hand with Harris’ suggestion of elitist and authoritarian control over library development. The two diverge, however, as Harris asserts that authoritarianism never left the library while Garrison suggests a gradual energy shift inward where librarians focused more on “a quest for technical competence.” One of the great things about history, though, is that multiple – seemingly opposing – interpretations can all be accurate, simply from different perspectives. After having read the more pessimistic articles on library scholarship, this article seems a bit more optimistic in that regard.
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