Saturday at the library

I walked to work this morning. On Saturdays I take the bus. Except today. I guess I just wanted to be moving. It takes me about 40 minutes to make the trek. The bus, frankly, isn't much faster, especially once you add in the time waiting for it and the ten minutes it takes to walk to the bus stop.

The morning fog kept me cool though I shed my overshirt just after crossing campus.

When it's quiet on the Information Desk I will shelve DVDs or new books or clear away a pile of books abandoned on a table. Saturday can be crazy. It's not been bad at the Info Desk but I think the circulation desk got slammed, as usual. When the delivery arrived - boxes of books from other BPL branches - I brought a couple boxes over to the Info Desk to check in.

My boss this week sent an email reminder to those of us who staff Info. No cell phone conversations at the Info Desk. No online shopping. No homework.

Hm. What about poems?

Fante, etc

I processed 12 more paperbacks. Tuesday, March 9. The batch prior I solicited guesses on which would go first, right? But one of the other things I was curious about was how long it would take for the first to go out. It took ten days.

That batch was made up of the sort of popular fiction you see by the supermarket checkout counter. There are readers for it here, but not a lot.

So what about the 12 I put out this week? It's been three days and already three have been checked out:

Ehud Havazelet - Bearing the Body
Ursula Hegi - Stones from the River
John Fante - The Road to Los Angeles

The Hegi book was an Oprah book club selection from a few years ago. But the John Fante? Fante was a writer long out of print until the small press Black Sparrow took notice (presumably at the urging of Black Sparrow house writer & Fante fan Charles Bukowski) - Black Sparrow Press was acquired by a New York publisher, so Fante now has a New York publisher. I don't know Ehud Havazelet.

Margolin goes first

So two weeks ago I added a batch of paperbacks to the browsing collection.

I made a couple guesses and David (in comments) left a guess, and Kent (offline) made a guess. None of us were right.

The first book from the batch that got checked out was:
Phillip Margolin - Executive Privilege

The next day another went out:
Amanda Quick - The Third Circle

And two days later:
Daniel Silva - The Mark of the Assassin

3 copies of P&P

I think we're shorthanded today. That wouldn't be unusual. I've already had my lunch - I ate at House of Curries, a chicken tikka masala with rice. This afternoon's break I will eat homemade chocolate chip cookies as I slurp my coffee. I am looking forward to it.

No hassles at the Claremont branch so far. I haven't smelled any homeless people. Maybe the sunshine has them out wandering.

The Info Desk is near the corner where we keep the DVDs and new books. If nobody needs reference help I'm often shelving in that corner.

The DVDs come in & out so quickly - I wonder how long we had them before I realized there are three copies of the 2005 movie version of "Pride and Prejudice"? Two are on the shelf right now. One is out.

I just fetched another batch of new books from the circulation desk. Are there any that I'd like to read? Not Now, Voyager has a clever title. It's by Lynn Sharon Schwartz, says it's a memoir. Seems to be a series of essays on travels - to Rome, to Jamaica. Chapter titles like "Hotels and Soap" and "Borders or Cabo Tormentoso".

"One day our doorbell in Rome rang," writes Schwartz, "and we discovered two strangers, an American couple in their fifties who introduced themselves as neighbors of my parents. They were vacationing in Rome and my mother had asked them to look in on us. ... My parents knew we had a furnished apartment but couldn't quite picture the details. So they sent this couple. ... [After a tour of the apartment they could] reassure my mother that we were living in some semblance of decency."

Looks okay. But I think I won't add it to my current pile.

goodbye Chinese books, hello cafe

Last Tuesday I put 14 new paperbacks onto the browsing racks. They're not new, as in brand new from the publisher; being as they were all donated, they are pre-read, but they are new to our collection. Last post I asked for guesses on which of these 14 would first be checked out. In the week since, not one has been checked out. Hm. That's not what I usually see. Usually one of the new items goes right out. The 14 books are just about all by bestselling authors of the supermarket wire rack variety. The readers here don't seem to go for that sort of bestseller. Dunno why. Anyway, you can still guess which will go first! If anybody gets it right, they'll get a prize! Or maybe a no-prize. An air kiss? We'll see.

The Claremont branch library is facing renovation. It's looking like there will actually be less shelving in the library after renovation than we have now. That's not making me happy. Even though I'm all into weeding and everything. Speaking of weeding - the Chinese books are out of here. We no longer have an employee who speaks (or reads) Chinese so we don't have anyone who can review the collection for currency and quality; the books are getting old and aren't often checked out. So we're deleting them. It's not a big collection. Six or seven shelves. Down to two. I spent an hour earlier today deleting.

When it rains we put a big roll of paper towels out on the returns desk next to a sign: "Please dry your books! Thank you!" If people bringing their books back don't use the towels, we certainly do.

There's a new cafe in the neighborhood. Just what the neighborhood needed? It's only been open a few days and already it's busy. The cafe takes over what used to be a soda fountain in a drug store. The rest of the old drug store has been taken over by the expansion of the independent bookstore, Mrs Dalloway's. Yes, an independent bookstore successful enough to expand. Who'd thunk?

any bets?

Patricia Cornwell - Predator
Anne River Siddons - Fox's Earth
James Baldwin - Go Tell It on the Mountain
James Baldwin - If Beale Street Could Talk
Amanda Quick - The Third Circle
Daniel Silva - The Mark of the Assassin
Eric Van Lustbader - Robert Ludlum's The Bourne Sanction
Haywood Smith - The Red Hat Club
James Patterson - Sail
Phillip Margolin - Executive Privilege
Robert B. Parker - Stranger in Paradise
Clive Cussler w/Paul Kemprecos - Polar Shift
Clive Cussler w/Paul Kemprecos - The Navigator
Clive Cussler & Dirk Cussler - Black Wind

The above are books I added to the browsing paperbacks collection here at the Claremont branch. I added the books on Tuesday, so it's been a couple days and none have yet been checked out. Any guesses as to which will walk out the door first?

I'm going to guess:
Robert B. Parker's Stranger in Paradise

Since there are so many I'm going to give a second guess. If not Stranger then Go Tell It on the Mountain by James Baldwin.

Info Desk!

One of my duties is waking sleeping people. It's not like I tour the library looking for them. But if I hear snoring I get up from the Info Desk and look for the snorer and wake them. Sometimes it's a homeless person, sometimes it's an old lady. I have seen a college student or two with head down but I've not yet felt I had to wake one. I mean, if you sit out of sight of the Info Desk and sleep quietly there's probably not much risk anyone will bother you. That is, unless we see you stretched out in a bedroll.

Nick was busy trying to finish shelving the holds. As usual we've got a lot of them. Each book (or DVD or whatever) has wrapped around it a printed slip showing the name of the patron for which it is on hold. We don't really have room for all the holds. Currently, I see, Nick has not been able to get them all onto the shelves so there are two book trucks poking out into the aisle with holds on them. Anyway, while Nick was working on the holds I helped out a bit on the Circulation Desk. So I was running back & forth - handing out a library card application here, helping with the balking self-checkout machine there.

Now I'm back at the Info Desk. A patron said he couldn't get access to our wireless network; he said he'd never had any trouble before. He waited a few minutes and is in. "Don't know what happened," he says.

My last reference question: a woman is putting together a short course (6 two-hour lectures) on the history of photography. So I helped go through the catalog in search of books & DVDs on the topic.

Julian Bond of the NAACP speaks to the Human Rights Campaign

I watched this speech by Julian Bond spring of '09. I saved the code to embed it here, then didn't. Playing it again I like it again.

So reasonable. So soft-spoken. Such a mensch.

back to the Info Desk at the Claremont Library

I see someone spinning the browsing paperback racks. Looks like she's going for a PD James - plus 2 others I can't make out.

I did a batch of nonfiction paperbacks yesterday. Nobody's checked out any of those yet. It always encourages me when something I've processed gets checked out, especially if somebody pounces on it as soon as it's available.

A woman just asked if we had any books by a writer, "Last name - Robert." She double-checks her note to herself. "Roberts," she corrects.

Roberts? Uh. "Nora Roberts?" I guess.

"No." She thinks. "David Roberts."

I put that into the search box and come up with five different "David Roberts" author entries. The woman is holding a book of mystery short stories. I ask if David Roberts writes mysteries. There is a David Roberts in the catalog with mysteries to his name. I read off a few of the titles. None are in this branch; all are held at Central. The woman says she will go by Central this weekend.

We have four computer terminals for accessing the internet. Used to be one was set aside for drop-ins. We had a waiting list people would sign. As of this week you have to make a reservation via one of the catalog terminals in the lobby. No more waiting list. One of the usual questions we get is: "I just need to get on the internet for 2 minutes to check my email." Sadly, we do not have a 2 minute internet terminal.

An older man tells me, after having trouble with the newly installed catalog interface, "When you get to be 80, all change is bad."

“progress in understanding one’s self”

My mother died more than five years ago. When I cleared out the house in Sebastopol I threw away lots of stuff. But I kept as much writing or handmade work as I could. I brought it back in boxes and crates to the house in Berkeley. There was really no place to put it all so it stacked up in corners.

Now that the upstairs renovation is done, Kent and I are trying to find places for all the things we really want to keep. And if we don’t really want to keep it? Move it on out into the world. This weekend Kent took boxes of books and clothes to Out of the Closet, an AIDS charity thrift store.

One pile gone, umpteen to go.

In her last years Mom found a friend in Thich Nhat Hanh, the Vietnamese Buddhist teacher. In going through a box just now I came across Old Path White Clouds: walking in the footsteps of the Buddha, a fat book of teachings and stories (legends?) about the Buddha. Mom marked pages 146 & 147 which give a thumbnail of the Buddha’s central teaching. “The Buddha began serenely … ‘The path I have discovered is the Middle Way, which avoids both extremes and has the capacity to lead one to understanding, liberation, and peace.’” (Mom’s emphasis)

On the inside back cover Mom’s handwriting notes, “Humility and open-mindedness are necessary for making progress.”

Then, dated 8/27/00 Sunday, Mom questions the preceding, “Where did I find? This statement is not complete. I’m sure that ‘progress’ refers to progress in understanding one’s self -- Not ‘progress’ in mechanical, non-feeling technology.’”

She adds two book recommendations. “Books I like – by David Darling Soul Search and Zen Physics.”

comments on “I Fell into a Kingdom of Falling”, version 4

New title. I edited down what had been the first three lines to a title. I decided the old title was merely the spark and didn’t need to stay. I grew to dislike the word “kingdom”, especially. Lopping off the beginning of a poem in revision was a lesson learned from my first poet-teachers. The beginning is also often the hardest bit to part with, as it was what got the poem going and can seem like the poem entire. The new first line is better, though.

Some other changes, but I won’t itemize.

My opinion of the poem over the course of its versioning has gone from I-love-it to I-hate-it and back. I’m in an I-love-it mood right now. Or I was when I started writing these comments. Now? Oh, now I’m just sorta tired.

“I Fell into a Kingdom of Falling”, version 4

House on Foundation of Cloud


In the hall my heart stopped.
The wind dragged past to the bath.
And I had to tear loose some fear,
some little of it
that caught in the hinge,
that had stopped things up.

To one of the tongues of flame
that searched the walls for words
already eaten, I was sure,
eaten and digested,
smudge now across a watery way between
white monuments,
I pressed it.
To one of the fatter
I pressed it.

Wasn’t it falling?
Wasn’t I?

I reviewed my expertise in falling,
tested the latch and release of the heart.
The wind dragged off in the other direction
toward one of the dark rooms
far back.

With cold fingers I tore from my fear what would come.
Put it in your ears, I told myself.
They burn, too.

comments on “I Fell into a Kingdom of Falling”, version 3

When I started this version I thought I was maybe just fiddling. I don’t know. At the moment the rather minor changes feel important.

I note a lack of agreement in the phrase, “the words that had been eaten … that was smudge now”. “Words” is plural, “was smudge” should be “were smudge”? Yet I prefer “was”. Words a singular like team or language. Then there’s getting rid of “was” … “eaten and digested, / smudge now across a watery way …” Hm.

Paul Mariah’s workshop, I recall, was the place I learned to look at the tiniest words, like “it” or “was” or “the”. One tends to overlook them. Then the question, if overlooked, truly needed? I can see other places that might profitably lose small words. “I had to tear loose some fear, / some little of it / caught in the hinge …”

Fiddling.

I Fell into a Kingdom of Falling, version 3

The house, on foundations of cloud,
replenished smoke tapestries
from the burning of fear.
In the hall my heart stopped suddenly,
the wind on the way to the bath dragging past.

I had to tear loose some of that fear,
some little of it
that caught in the hinge,
that brought things to a halt.
And to one of the tongues of flame

that searched the walls for the words
that had been eaten already, I was sure,
eaten and digested,
that was smudge now across a watery way between
white monuments,

to one of the fatter
I pressed it.

Wasn’t I falling anyway?

I explored my expertise in falling,
tested the latch and release of the heart.
The wind dragged off in the other direction
toward one of the dark rooms
far back.

With cold fingers I tore from my fear what would come.
Put it in your ears, I told myself.
Keep them burning.

comments on “I Fell into a Kingdom of Falling” version 2

I used to avoid melodramatic language. Didn’t I? Well, I’ve always used it. But I tend to edit it down cuz people find it objectionable. I think I’m camping anyway. Exaggerating, dressing emotion in gaudy excess. I think that’s one of the things that poetry does – excess. Non-poets turn to poetry in extremis. When the heart hurts, when they feel an agonizing grief, a flaring rage, a deep calm. Ordinary, daily emotion isn’t what poetry is for. It’s also for an excess of language strategies – sound, pun, structure, destruction. Excess doesn’t mean not serious. But serious doesn’t mean fun-hating.

Used to be the dedicated poet soaked in agonies and spewed ecstasies, too. But fashions changed. Restraint. A cool intellectualism. These became the acceptable poetry. All that panting and moaning and running through the streets – even if only safe on the page and bound – ugh – the sophisticated reader recoiled. And I’m not saying I don’t share the reaction. Poems of centuries past that wordily roved about the poet’s oh-so-important sentiment remain anachronistic.

But I like passions. If my poetry is sometimes more WWF than street brawl, okay. I like capes and shouting. A poem is not a fist in the face. Not really. It’s display, not attack. Not that the two aren’t frequently confused.

When I showed the poem to Kent he said it was familiar. Yeah. I knew when I was writing it I was revisiting a dream that’s found it’s way into many an earlier poem. There’s a terrain that I wander through that a reader used to my work could begin to anticipate. It’s not that we refrain from repeating ourselves; it’s that we’re trying out variations.

I Fell into a Kingdom of Falling, version 2

The house, from foundations of cloud,
replenished smoke tapestries
with the burning of fear.
In the hall my heart stopped.
The wind dragged past to the bath.
And I had to tear loose some of that fear,
some little of it
that had caught in the hinge,
that had brought things to a halt.
And to one of the tongues of flame
that searched the walls for the words
that had been eaten already, I was sure,
eaten and digested,
that was smudge now across a watery way between
white monuments,
to one of the fatter
I pressed it.
Wasn’t I going to fall anyway?
I explored my skills in falling,
tested the latch and release of the heart.
The wind dragged off in the other direction
toward one of the dark rooms
far back.
With cold fingers I tore from my fear what would come.
Put it in your ears, I told myself.
Keep them burning.

poem I bought a book with

“I Fell into a Kingdom of Falling” is the poem I bought a book with. Today was Small Press Distribution’s annual open house and in a nook of one of the office cubicles they’d set out yellow writing tablets. If you brought a poem or story you could fill out a voucher form, then hand over your writing and choose from several shelves of books. If you hadn’t had the foresight to bring anything you could sit down and write something on one of the yellow pads. I liked that. So I sat down, cast my gaze about the walls at posters, at the bookshelves, nothing grabbed me. I turned to the page and wrote down a phrase that has visited me now & again for decades – “I fell into a kingdom of falling.”

They say they will publish a selection of the poems. The young woman who stapled my poem to the voucher asked if she could read the poem. I said yes; once she’d read it she didn’t say anything. If she’d loved it I suppose she would have said something, but who knows.

I saw one familiar poet waiting for the scheduled reading to begin, Dale Jensen. He showed me a couple books he’d plucked from the boxes of books being offered for a dollar per. After the reading (which was good; I really have to sit down with that Andrew Joron book I bought years ago) I applied myself to the task of spending $10. There were about fifteen full boxes – poetry, novels, essays, literary magazines. Did I succeed? I did. I will list them all at DIR.

A big storm is coming in. It rained a bit on the car on the drive over to SPD, and maybe it rained while I was safely inside the warehouse poring diligently over the dollar books. Having bought them I was asked repeatedly if I was sure I didn’t need a bag. No, I said. Somebody took a picture of me holding them against my chest.

I Fell into a Kingdom of Falling

The house, its foundation of cloud,
replenished smoke tapestries
with the burning of fear.
My heart stopped in the hall
as the wind dragged past to the bath
and I tore loose some of the fear,
some little of it
that had caught in the hinge,
and pressed it to one of the tongues of flame
that searched the walls for the words
that had been eaten already, I was sure,
eaten and digested,
now smudge across a watery way between
white monuments.
I was going to fall anyway.
I explored my falling skills,
tested the opening and closing of the heart,
the wind dragging past my mouth
toward one of the dark rooms
at the back of the house.
I tore at my fear with cold fingers.
I should put them in my ears, which
are burning.

Finding Fowl

Here I am at the Info Desk again. I helped a woman (mother?) find the 3rd & 4th novels of the Artemis Fowl series - the books don't feature a number on the cover, and our online catalog doesn't tell you. There are tricks - like sorting search results by publication date - #3 in a series is never published before #2, right?

I haven't had many live people asking for help. And most of the phone calls make me feel like a receptionist - "Let me transfer you to her office."

A preteen girl wanted the Dear America series. A friend had recommended them. I found the series in the catalog, then set her up at a catalog terminal so she could scroll down the list until she found one she liked. She found two. Neither was on the shelf. One was checked out. The other? Who knows. While we were looking for the Dear America books the girl started spinning a rack of paperbacks and said she was okay with not finding the Dear America books as she was finding other things of interest.

I don't do the children's paperbacks. I will help with the processing of them - entering the titles into the system, slapping on a barcode, whatever. But I don't choose any. So if there's great stuff there I can't take the credit.

Info Desk Blogging

Quiet night. I'm usually not on Info Desk the last two hours of a Thursday. I guess I got plunked here cuz the head of the branch is taking part in a public meeting to gather input on the renovation of the branch. I just got a phone call: "Are there many people at the meeting?" Being as I can't see the meeting room from the Info Desk I tried encouraging the caller to come and have his say. "We welcome the input," I said. But the caller wasn't right nearby. It would take him fifteen minutes to get here. He didn't want to come unless nobody else was here. So I put him on hold and went to see. "Looks like there are five people at the meeting," I told him as I got back on the line. "Oh dear," he said, "I'll be there as soon as I can."

Tonight is also our day of the month to host Lawyers in the Library, a volunteer service of the Alameda County Bar Association. There's only one lawyer. So it's Lawyer in the Library. Rather than Lawyers ... donchano.

The Lawyer night brings more anxiety than usual into the library. I don't hear any of the stories that lead people to need lawyers, but worried faces come up to the desk wondering if the lawyer is in, how long does the lawyer see each person, what's the order people are seen, and so on.

One of the slightly weird things about our Lawyer night is this: "In-person sign-ups only; sign-ups begin at 5pm. Names pulled by lottery at 6pm." You are not seen in the order in which you show up. You are seen in a random order. This seems to change somewhat according to who is at the Info Desk. Some Info Deskers give people a place in line. This changeability is kind of annoying. The Berkeley Information Network page (linked above) has the rules; I read the rules to anybody who asks and whenever they tell me someone else told them something different I tell the questioner all I know is what's written. If the policy has been changed the written version needs to be changed so we all can give out the same information. Blah blah blah. I try to say it nicely.

I try to say everything nicely. Nobody likes attitude. Frankly, attitude just makes the job harder. Of course, part of the job is enforcing rules and that's not always happy-making.

Ooh. Is cold out. The door opens and chill air pours in. Just think, at home now we have central heating! It's cheering me up.