I've been meaning to start writing this for a while. I'm a page (amongst other things) at a large academic library. This means I have a lot of time to notice and think about the nuances of library life as I roam about the stacks. So here goes. Let the musing begin:
Libraries mean different things to different people. For some, they are objects of terror--oppressively silent labyrinths of incomprehensible books. For others they are the perfect sanctuary for curling up in a study cage and writing for hours uninterrupted by the real world. The library that I work in is a hulking fortress over ten stories tall and is insulated with concrete and tinted glass. After an hour in the stacks there, one forgets that there is a world outside of the soft florescent lighting and the smell of stale coffee. It is easy become lost in a universe where weeping graduate students and two inch thick layers of dust are normal, healthy parts of life.
But it's not so bad as that. Like other planets, worlds, ecosystems, and cultures, there are whole spheres of life--patterns of behavior and culture that are unique to the library. And that, I suppose, makes them rather interesting.
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