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.
Sunday, April 13, 2008
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.
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