Remembering "The Stacks"

There is more to the library experience than simply finding a book.

I doubt if any true bibliophiles can recall their overall experience in the stacks of a major university library without being engulfed in a wave of affection.

For those who are not familiar with the term, the “stacks” were, and I trust still are in many libraries, a book storage area that was separate from the more open reading rooms. There were open stacks, where one could freely wander, and closed stacks which required permission before entering.

The stacks often had little side nooks with a desk, chair, and small shelves. Those enabled you to go over your loot from the shelves and read and take notes. [In the Sixties, they were also a sanctuary from roommates and the non-stop playing of “Light My Fire.”]

The stacks were a treasure chest. Any student who neglected them was missing the best part of the library because it was a rare wander that did not produce “finds”: books that you would not have discovered in a standard card catalogue search (another activity that evokes affection.).

I mention the stacks because of the chilling pictures of libraries in which the search experience has been computerized and where orders of books are fulfilled by the librarians. That, of course, is apart from the fact that so many books are being read electronically; the equivalent of sipping wine from a Styrofoam cup.

A magic is being lost. The joy is being drained. The once special but invisible bond between the reader, the books, and the library is being severed in the name of cost and convenience.

In the move to modernize, there is an odd rush to embrace practices which alienate the organization’s best customers.

“Fast knowledge” is the equivalent of “fast food.” It is likely to be as memorable and as nourishing.

The best experiences in life are slower and have important intangibles. Beware of any decision where the only merits are the efficient, the economic, and the transactional.

Consider the feeling.