the loveliest librarian

“Besides,” Deirdre added, leaning closer and tapping her braid against Harley’s arm, “the American Library Association says that compliance with the Code of Ethics is voluntary. There aren’t sanctions or any fines if a librarian discloses a patron’s record.”

“It’s the most sacred bond between librarian and patron,” Helma interjected.

“But if you can save a life…,” Harley said.

“Whose life?” Helma asked, but it was Deirdre who snapped back the answer.

“Another victim’s life, who else’s? And you’ve already demonstrated that you belive lives are expendable by erasing the name the police wanted.” She rubbed her braid against her cheek. “You’d rather follow some impossible ideal than save an innocent person.”

“The library’s obligation is to the individual,” Helma told her.

“Oh yeah? And what if the next victim is a child?”

“It might have been,” Helma said, and turned and walked away from them, feeling their eyes following after her.

She heard Eve ask Deirdre, “What kind of librarian are you?”

“A reasonable one,” Deirdre answered. [p. 175]

Title: Miss Zukas Shelves the Evidence
Creator: Dereske, Jo
Publisher: Avon Books
Date: 2001
Type: Text

One of the quirks I’d developed over the past four years was an aversion to touching people, especially strangers, so rather than accept his hand, I bent to pick up an imaginary paper clip on the floor. When I stood, his hand was no longer extended.

“The girl at the desk said I needed to talk to Ophelia Jensen. Are you Ophelia?” he asked. When I nodded, his eyes widened in surprise.

“What’s wrong?”

He laughed. “I’m sorry. You don’t look like a librarian.”

“Really? And what exactly is a librarian supposed to look like?”

“You know, older, hair in a bun, reading glasses on a a chain, pencil stuck behind the ear.” He smiled, eying my clothes. “I’ve never met a librarian wearing blue jeans and a T-shirt that says ‘Tact is for people not witty enough to use sarcasm.’ Or one with a name like Ophelia.”

I looked down at my clothes. He was right. Not my normal librarian look. Mentally, I pulled my tattered dignity around me and stood straighter. “I work alone in my office on Fridays.” That wasn’t any of his business. Why was I explaining? “But it seems the Dewey decimal system is beyond my assistant’s scope of understanding, so someone has to put these books away.” [p. 5]

Title: Witch Way to Murder: An Ophelia and Abby Mystery
Creator: Damsgaard, Shirley
Publisher: Avon Books
Date: 2005
Type: Text

 

“We’ll have to have one card file with the names and addresses of the borrowers,” Ginny said. “On those cards we’ll write the titles of the books they borrowed and the date they borrowed them. Then we’ll have another card file with the titles of the books. On those cards we’ll write the names of the members who borrowed them, and the date the books are due to be returned. On the first blank page of every book we’ll glue a slip of paper. On it we’ll write or stamp, if we have a rubber date stamp, which we should have, the date the book is due. Also, we’ll have to have a control calendar card file. On the date which corresponds to the date the book is due to be returned we’ll write the title and the name of the borrower. And the first thing we’ll do every day when we open shop is check that calendar file to make sure the book is picked up if it hasn’t been returned previously.”

Lucy moaned and pulled strands of her blond hair across her face. “It’s all too, too complicated. I’m glad you’re the business manager, Ginny. Calendar card file, rubber date stamp, books borrowed, books due, names, addresses, titles — it’s all too much for me!” [p. 18-19]

Title: Ginny Gordon and the Lending Library
Creator: Campbell, Julie, 1908-1999
Publisher: Whitman Publishing Company
Date: 1954
Type: Text

No one was approaching with armfuls of books or tickets in their hands: there were no sour and pear-shaped OAPs; no straggle-haired young mums at their wits’ end with smeary, miserable children dragging along for story time; no one clutching important-looking unimportant documents to be photocopied in triplicate for their solicitor or the DSS; no wrinkled, stubbly, fragrant winos; no schoolkids half-heartedly working on projects about ancient civilizations or the Second World War or the processes of human digestion. No madmen. No one. None of them. The building was empty. The car park was deserted. The library was shut.

There is a terrible poignancy about a a building intended for the public that is closed to the public: it feels like an insult, a riposte to all our more generous instincts, the public polity under threat, and democracy abandoned. Back home in London, Israel had always found the sight of Brent Cross shopping centre at night depressing enough, and his girlfriend Gloria, her family’s swimming pool when it was drained in the winter, but the sight of the big red-brick library with its dark windows affected him even more deeply, in the same way that the sight of a derelict school might affect a teacher, or an empty restaurant a chef: a clear sign of the impending collapse of civilisation and the inevitable bankruptcy, a reminder never to count your chickens, or to overspend on refurbishments and cutlery. No one likes to see a shut library.

But for Israel Armstrong the sight of this shut library was more than just an omen or a mere unpleasantness. For Israel, this was personal. For chubby little Israel Armstrong, in his brown corduroy suit and his best brown shoes, all the way over from England, first time in Ireland and first time in the north, the sight of this particular shut library was an absolute disaster. [p. 5-6]

Title: The Case of the Missing Books: A Mobile Library Mystery
Author: Sansom, Ian
Publisher: Harper
Date: 2005
Type: Text

She settled down to the exceedingly sad and monotonous task of filing. It was work that she always resented, for it was so very dull, mechanical enough to let her thoughts rove, and yet requiring a certain amount of concentration. She sighed and returned a form for Die Castings to its proper place. The girls had been instructed that ‘der, die, das’ were merely the German definite article; Greta had methodically filed Die Castings under ‘C.’ She muttered the title with a German accent and, as she did so, heard Greta herself come in, whistling unmelodiously between her teeth.

“Talking to yourself,” said Greta. “You know what that means, don’t you?”

“Well, if I’m not mad already, I soon shall be.”

“So shall we all,” said Greta. [p. 30]

Title: Dewey Death
Creator: Blackstock, Charity
Publisher: Ballatine Books
Date: 1958
Type: Text