Thoughts on a Library Disaster

I haven't blogged in a while.  Actually, it feels like ages and ages.  I ran into the problem of only wanting to blog about One Thing and feeling like I should keep my mouth shut.  The gumption to write about something -- anything -- else has been absent.  So.  I'm going to open my mouth and write what I've been wanting to write.  First of all I would like to make some things clear:

1. I am one person.  These are my impressions and ideas and I have not been fully briefed by all the parties involved.  I could be very wrong in some of the statements I make, but know that I make these statements based on observation and having folks in the know confide in me.
2. If  you know which University and Library I work for, please keep that information out of comments, links, and posts relating to this.  I love my University and Library and I don't want to cause undo stress because I feel the need to whine.
3. No one has communicated to me written or verbally that I should not discuss this matter.  I was waiting for the big "Don't Talk About It" from the higher up folks, but it never came.
4. I'm not sharing pictures because I do not want to effect any legal action that may or may not take place.

Alright.

It rained inside of the library last Friday.

It RAINED INSIDE OF THE LIBRARY last Friday.

Not a drip.  Not a trinkle.  An actual rain.

So what happened?

We've had roofers re-roofing our library and last Thursday night they left the site and didn't COVER THE OPEN ROOF.  Yes, there was a large gaping hole in the roof.  There were ceiling tiles, but no roof.  And, yes, it rained that night.

Fast  forward to Friday morning.

The housekeeper arrives at 7:30am and disarms our alarmed building.  I arrive at 7:45am, put my bags in the office, and head off to the break -room to brew a pot of coffee.  While the coffee brews I leave our work area and head out to our Information Desk area.  The housekeeper and I are talking and we realize that in the very back of our one-story library there are men crawling around in the dark with bags.  At first I freak out, but then I recognize one of the men as a roofer and I notice they are counting something on the ceiling.  The housekeeper and I head to the back together to investigate.

I flip on the back lights and stand in the middle of the library.  I'm all at once panicked, angry, confused, and pretty much flabbergasted.  The carpet is soaked so badly in places that I'm splashing.  Wet, broken ceiling tiles are on the floor, the study tables, the couches, and some are draped across the actual books.  Water is dripping in places and streaming in others.  A few ceiling tiles are "pregnant", i.e. full to bulging with water and about to burst.  The fluorescent light panels are filled with water.  Can I just say I was so proud of myself for not letting out a torrent of profanities?

One roofer has the AUDACITY to tell me it rained around the books and hit the floor.  At that moment I'm staring at a volume of Sherlock Holmes being dripped on. The most damage is in the P's.   Those of you familiar with academic libraries  and the Library of Congress call number system will know that the "P's" are LITERATURE.

Stretching back, some science, medicine, and textiles books are damaged but the brunt of the damage is in the literature section.  Chinese literature is okay, but after that the damage begins with British literature taking the most damage.

I left the back area and immediately called my library director (she was on her way to work and didn't answer the phone) and called my supervisor.  Then some librarians showed up.  We closed the library for the day.  After that, the day was a blur: cleaning crews, administrators, insurance folks, roofers, concerned professors, consultants, maintenance workers, and art gallery personnel were in and out of the library all day.

We library folks headed to the damaged area to salvage what we could.   My first thought was to check on Elizabeth Bowen because I knew she lived on a top shelf.  There she was under a tile about to burst.  I grabbed every last Bowen volume and threw it on a library cart.  Rupert Brooke, alas, was already soaked through.  George Eliot was saved as was Thomas Hardy.  Sylvia Plath is soaked.  Shakespeare, Conrad, and Melville are pretty much gone.

Around 10 am, we couldn't do any more and had to turn things over to the professional cleaners.  We went for coffee on campus and later that day we went out for Thai food.  We were shocked and MAD AS HELL.

If this had been the product of a natural disaster I think we all would have been grateful for what we could salvage and that no one was hurt.  But this damage was from lazy stupidity.  Seriously?  You leave the roof open?  All of this could have been prevented.  The one thing I'm most thankful for is that it wasn't over our rare book gallery.

The past few days have been a period of waiting.  I worked at a yearbook camp over the weekend (I pretty much just set at the front desk and made sure no teenagers messed with the collection, artwork, or the disaster area).  I worked this week at the library, but didn't go into the disaster zone.  I turned off our ILL lending, I stalled a book fine project because I couldn't check the stacks for lost books, I tried to catch-up on other things.

We began to hear encouraging things -- many books would be saved, things were drying out, everything would be okay.  Until yesterday.  Yesterday the library staff went to the back to check for mold blooms.  I didn't go, as I have a mold allergy.   I went back there for 5 minutes to ask a question (because I heard it wasn't too bad back there) and it is bad.  My throat went scratchy and the air smelled bleh.  Today, I'm home with congestion, a sinus headache, and a sore throat.  The librarians looked grim.

I don't know what the final fallout will be.  I don't know what will be replaced or how much money the University can spend.  Oh, and classes start Monday.

The past few days I've had a silly panic.  I forgot to check on Rebecca West.  I cannot tell you how much that bothers me.  She is on a top shelf.  I hope she isn't damaged, because I can guarantee you she won't be replaced.  I don't believe a single university course teaches her and our replacements will need to support authors taught in the contemporary university classroom

This panic led to a strange book buying spree on my lunch break yesterday.  In 15 minutes I blew through the local charity book shop and bought 6 books.  It was weird.  I joke about needing to buy books and book binges, but most of the time I'm being hyperbolic.  This was a weird snatching, grabbing, desperate, sort of books buying. I'll share the purchases in a different post.

So that's it.  That's what's running through my mind.  It fucking rained in our library.  IT FUCKING RAINED IN OUR LIBRARY.

Elizabeth: The Golden Age...

... or "the Top Ten Reasons to Scoop Your Eyeballs Out with A Searingly Hot Spoon Rather Than Be Subjected to Such Obnoxious Twaddle"

10. Clive Owen -- Normally, Clive Owen with his dark looks and chiseled chin is a good thing. In this movie...meh...not so much. Oh sure he is rugged and handsome and looks lovely as Sir Walter Raleigh, but historical inaccuracies abound making Clive Owen look like the court jester with a better codpiece. He says morose things with dead eyes that stare wistfully at the sea and when he gets all sexy over a lady-in-waiting he looks as turned on as PETA activist in a slaughterhouse.

9. Bad Poetry, Oh Noetry -- One of the major historical inaccuracies is Queen Lizzy falling in love with the dashing Raleigh. What makes this even more far-fetched is that Lizzy's lust is heightened by long boring scenes of Raleigh pontificating on the beauty of discovering the new world. And the wind. And the land. And the albatross...(okay there is no albatross). And Queenie squirms, SQUIRMS, listening to Raleigh describing land looking like a "smudge."

8. Female Hysteria -- We all know that even though she is the spawn of Henry the Eighth, Elizabeth is, unfortunately, plagued with having a vagina. Having a vagina means that she is completely unfulfilled by power and wealth and would rather have Raleigh in a cottage with some brats running about. This is evidenced by her bipolar like behavior towards Raleigh. She loves him so much she commands him to not go back to the new world but to stay in England with her (eyelash flutter). In actuality, Raleigh stayed because of impending war and not so that Lizzie could get her "quaint honor" all worked up over him. Cate Blanchett's portrayal of Elizabeth is embarrassing. There are plenty of shrieks, tantrums, agonized expressions, blank stares of despair, and the classic Blanchett "I'm-covering-my-mouth-dramatically-to-stifle-the-screams" move.

7. Bad Montage -- This sapfest climaxes in a really bad montage about midway through the movie. Basically, the director took scenes from the first Lizzy movie. It is the part where she is dancing with her Duddikins (a.k.a Dudley, Earl of Essex) and takes out the Dudley to replace the scene with WALTER RALEIGH. Really, REALLY?! Oh, poor Lizzy. She hasn't been properly laid and all that sexual tension from Dudders has given her blue balls. She is unable to even think about her duties as sovereign when she is pining over her past loves (Duddy) and her new interests (Raleigh).

6. Assassins Running A-Muck -- So everyone knows that there are plenty of folks who would love to off Lizzy and get a good ole' Catholic queen. Security is increased; the council is on alert and Lizzy is .... off riding horses alone with Raleigh, walking into churches with nary a guard and only her gleaming purity to save her (apparently, when the queen wears white she glows like that chic from Touched by an Angel). Towards the end, Lizzy stands on some cliffs looking out to sea at the burning Armada in her nightie with the wind whipping round her. So much for royal propriety.

5. Mary Queen of Scots WTF -- In this film Mary Q. is portrayed as a vile trollop. Okay. I can buy that, depending on which interpretation you read of MQ's bio she was a bit haughty. What is completely effed up is that MQ is executed in a sort of throne room, wearing a scarlet dress and the entire execution is screwy from a historical standpoint. Oh, yes, it is all very dramatic. But not right and frankly since mostly nerd watch these sorts of historical movies I think that directors have a duty to nerding-types.

4. Not giving Drake his due -- Drake gets a slight nod mid-way through the Armada sequence, but he definitely doesn't get the mad props he deserves. Raleigh is credited with the piracy that pissed off Spain (that was Drake) and Raleigh has the brilliant idea for fire ships (Drake again). Raleigh was present during the Armada show-down, but didn't play a large part in the ass kicking.

3. They Fucked up the Armada Scene -- According to this film Raleigh (Clive Owen) saves the day by kicking the Spanish Armada's ass nearly single-handedly. In addition to Drake only being mentioned in passing, John Hawkins (the leader of the English fleet) doesn't get mentioned at all. And Raleigh certainly didn't dive into the flaming waters of the Atlantic nor did he scale burning ships.

2. Overt Symbolism -- At the end of the film King Philip of Spain is praying to God about this defeat. He says to his Jeebus that he (Philip) is the light and wishes to lead England out of damnation. Then the candle blows out. And rosary beads sink into the flaming ocean and a cross dips under a wave. (Rolls eyes). All this while Lizzy stands in her nightie looking into the night with a look of quick victory on her face. Painful. Oh so painful.

1. Stupid -- it was stupid.

The ONE REDEEMING QUALITY -- according to roommate (a.k.a. Fashion Design major) they used lovely brocades.

A Conversation

Scene: Back in December I was at work typing away with the Penguin edition of Clarissa by Samuel Richardson sitting beside me. I had just checked it out that day and was bringing it home to start on over the holiday break. In walks our friendly UPS delivery man laden with boxes. He pauses at my desk and we have a short -- and disturbing -- conversation.

UPS Man: "Hi, Amanda! Wow, that is a huge book!"

Amanda: "Yeah. I'm going to try to read it."

UPS Man: "What is it about?"

Amanda: "Well, it is was written in the 1700s and it is about this girl who gets raped and dies."

UPS Man: "Geez, this guy must not be a very good rapist!"

Amanda: "Excuse me?"

UPS Man: "I mean, I would think it wouldn't take much more than a paragraph to rape someone. Seriously, over 1,000 pages for one rape?!"