The British Library

Today we visited the magnificent British Library, England's national library. The closest analogue in the US is the Library of Congress, but having had the privilege of using the Library of Congress, I'd have to say that the British Library is a less imposing institution--I mean that in a good way! The Library's lobby is open to anyone, and while there are bag inspections, both for security and loss prevention, there aren't metal detectors like there are at Library of Congress. I was also a little surprised that you can take bags and laptops in to the reading rooms, though some items are limited. Last time I was at the Library of Congress a couple of years ago, you had to leave everything but a notepad and pencil outside before you could go into the reading area. The Library has made a real effort to be integrated into the community it sits in as well. I can't image the Library of Congress allowing ping pong in front of the building, or outdoor concerts. On the other hand, the Library of Congress' neighbors are other government buildings, so there's really no neighborhood to speak of.

Our guide was very emphatic that the Library is a working library, not a "museum of books." (Though the King's Library, which was the personal collection of King George III, that lies at the heart of the Library is so gorgeous it seems like a work of art. The spines of all those magnificent old books look out at you through glass.) The reading rooms are generally close to full, with humanities reading rooms at 96-98% of capacity most of the time. The Library adds about 250-350 new reader's cards a day. You have to show proof of address (anywhere in the world) and an ID with a signature, and there are really, really no exceptions; the Queen's grandniece and the Mayor of London had to show their IDs, so don't think you can get out of it! Unfortunately, like libraries everywhere, the Library is concerned that its funding will cut in the upcoming wave of belt tightening that's expected from the British government. Fortunately, publishers are required by law to deposit one copy of every book they publish in the UK at the Library, so the Library will at least continue to acquire British books. The acquisitions budget of the Library is devoted to foreign works and special purchases that add value to the collection, and I imagine that will likely be trimmed.

One thing I didn't expect was the Library's Business and Intellectual Property (IP) Centre, probably a big part of how it generates value added services. About 17% of the Library's user base come to the Library to use these services, and the Library has an impressive array of databases and other materials to help them. The Library also has free in person and online courses in understanding IP and searching IP databases. (I'm super-excited about the online courses, and I know that's kind of sad. Who gets excited about the thought of learning how to search British patents?)

I did know about the magnificent collection of printed materials that the Library has, but I didn't realize how much they have on display. You can see both a Gutenberg Bible and handwritten lyrics by the Beatles. (As an aside, I loved the fact that the display explained that we know so much about how the Gutenberg Bible was printed because of court documents generated when Gutenberg and his partner fell out immediately after the books was printed and sued each other. So, right from the start the publishing business was litigious.) As the Library is a working library, even the extremely rare works on display can be used under special circumstances. An original Jane Austen manuscript was pulled from display for use by an Austen scholar a few years back.

A final note is this sculpted bench sitting in the lobby of the library, a reference to many things, including medieval chained manuscripts. The guide explained that the sculpture is called "Sitting on the Past," because the artist believes that we don't learn from our past, even when we learn about it. I'd add a slightly more optimistic note that it's only when we have institutions like the British Library and other major libraries and archives available to anyone that wants to use the materials that we have any hope of learning from the past at all.

A darker side of London

Today was clearly my day to be morbid. We went to the Tower of London in the morning, and I ended the day with a Jack the Ripper tour. Basically, nothing but murder and mayhem all day. London is a beautiful, vibrant city, but like any city it's had its dark moments. I got to learn a little bit about them at both ends of the economic spectrum today.

The Tower of London has a long and bloody history both as a place royalty has holed up during battle and a place where inconvenient nobles were executed, or simply murdered, with one of the most infamous set of murders being those of the boy princes who were in the way of Richard III's path to the throne in (probably) 1483; their skeletons were found during Tower renovations. The exploits of Richard III, and his use of the Tower as a place of murder inspired both Shakespeare's tragedy, and, um, Richard Corman's schlocky horror movie. Although not very many executions have actually taken place at the Tower itself, it is where both Anne Boleyn and Catherine Howard were executed. It was amusing to see how toned down the Tower is today. While there is mention of the darker history of the Tower, most people come to see the Crown Jewels (themselves kind of dark, if you think too hard about where those enormous rocks have come from), and you can take your picture with a man-sized teddy bear in a beefeater costume. Even the Tower ravens have their wings clipped, so they don't abandon the Tower; superstition holds that if they do the Tower will fall, and England with it. (This rather seems like cheating to me.)

At the other end of things, in the bleak and extremely impoverished East End of 1888 London were theJack the Ripper killings. The tour a few of us took was not watered down. In fact, I'll spare you the worst of the worst, but life was pretty terrible for the working class of London then, especially for women, who had extremely limited opportunities, and the murders, as you probably know, are utterly gruesome. I think they still loom large in the popular imagination both because they're the earliest set of murders that we think of as the stereotypical serial killer, and because the person who did the killings was never caught. Most of the famous modern theories revolve around a number of the rich and famous, including painter Walter Sickert, and even Prince Albert. I think in some way the conviction that it was one of the upper crust is symbolic of how the rich treated the poor then. Our guide had an interesting theory that it was simply one of the local butchers. That makes sense on one level, and does explain the ability to get to organs quickly in the dark. (I know, ick.) It's just not as exciting as thinking it could have been a member of the royal family. We'll never know, given the primitive level of forensics at the time, but I suspect people will never stop theorizing about it.

When Iggy Met Gia: Part One

My cat Iggy met Elana's dog Gia today...

Do they fight? Do they make friends? See how the story ends at Elana's blog.

Barbican Library

Today we had a tour of the Barbican Library, the largest public library in the City of London. I should say, though, that the City of London proper is only a small part of the large metropolitan area that makes up what you would normally think of as "London"--those of you back home in Los Angeles will understand what this means if you think of how West Hollywood, Santa Monica, and Beverly Hills all have their own separate city governments and library systems.

There are only a few thousand residents of the City, so much of the library's base of users are people that come into the City to work during the day, and students at nearby arts and music schools. This means that library's strengths are in its business and arts collections. It has an extensive sheet music collection, and the librarians have created a specialized index to help people find particular songs within sheet music anthologies. The library has an electric piano available for patron use (with headphones, for the sake of the other patrons). Although the original idea was that it would be a handy way for patrons to try out sheet music to make sure they had picked the right piece, it is mostly used for people who want to practice the piano. The music librarian told us that they have seen children go from beginning learning to progress through their qualification exams, without having a piano at home because they have this resource available to them. It's something the library is justifiably proud of. They also run Music Preserved, an archive of live performances.

It was fascinating to see the similarities and subtle differences between librarianship in the United States and England. I was happy to see that patron privacy is as much of a concern here as it is back in the US. Although the books are RFID tagged for easy check-out on the library's machines, a deliberate choice was made not to tag patron library cards because of privacy concerns. Cards also do not have photos on them, and no photo ID is required to get a card--it's very much on the honor system. The idea of the 24-7 library and a push for greater incorporation of digital resources is also very much alive here. The library has a number of databases that patrons can access at home, and they can access the catalog, including taking care of things like renewals and hold requests from home.

One small difference is that there are charges to check out non-educational DVDs and CDs. A larger difference is that age restrictions on what DVDs can be checked out are actually enforced; according to the librarians, the library is required to do so under UK law. (You can check out more about the British film classification system here.) Similarly, the internet on a lot (but not all) of the library's computers is filtered, and I didn't get the impression that this was as controversial for librarians here as it is for librarians in the US. (Though, in the US, a look at the number of state laws shows that it might be more mainstream than I think it is. It's also worth noting that in Washington state, filtering is surviving legal challenge at the moment.)

Another big difference is the amazing Bookstart program. Under this program, every child in the UK is entitled to a packet of free books at three points in their childhood--before the age of 1, at 18 to 30 months, and at 3-4 years of age. According to the children's librarian we met, this program was started by a woman who saw a child of four who had no idea what to do with a book when it was given to him. She became deeply upset when she realized that there were some children who simply had no access to books in the home. This relatively small, probably not very expensive program has real impacts on reading behavior. It would be wonderful if we could get something similar going in the US, but I have an unfortunate feeling that our politics would never let something like this get off the ground.

Finally, I was impressed by the level of attention that the library pays to making sure that there is access to materials for disabled patrons--something that we try to do in the US, though we don't always succeed. There are, of course, large print materials; there is also an enlarger available for books that do not come in large print, a JAWS screen reader station, and a dedicated internet workstation for persons in wheelchairs. The library even makes home deliveries to those that can't make it to the library, and has staff dedicated to working with the home delivery patrons on what materials they would like to use.

Freedom of Speech

Since intellectual freedom is one of the American Library Association's (ALA's)core values of librarianship, I was excited to hear about Speaker's Corner in Hyde Park. People have been able to speak about anything they want on this spot since 1872, when the government of the time responded to public pressure, and made the protests already going on there legal.











Many famous intellectuals have spoken at Speaker's Corner, and speakers still come every Sunday to pontificate on any number of issues. You can hear more about it in my podcast below. (Note: Intro music is Klingner, M. (2008). Sleepless In Thought [Recorded by M. Klingner]. On Songs & Wrongs [No publisher information], under a CC-By license. Voices other than my own recorded at Speaker's Corner on July 25, 2010.)

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In contrast, about two and half miles away, there is an uneasy situation regarding a protest in front of Parliament. Under the the Serious Organised Crime and Police Act of 2005, protesting in front of Parliament is illegal, unless the protester(s) have a permit. The law was inspired by the long term protest of anti-Iraq War protester Brian Haw. From May 1 of this year until just a few days ago, a collection of anti-war and pro-democracy protesters and homeless persons set up a camp called Democracy Village in front of Parliament. Here's a picture from July 18.

As you can see, the Village has been removed, but there are few protesters who have held out, and are now on the sidewalk in front of where the Village was.

Links worth checking out:

• ALA Office of Intellectual Freedom


• Speaker's Corner Trust


• SpeakersCorner.net; this site includes lots of podcasts and photos.


• The law allowing for a Speaker's Corner in Hong Lim Park in Singapore. Note the restrictions on what can be discussed.


• A blog about Speaker's Corner in Singapore
  


• Memo to the House of Commons on protests around Parliament


• Democracy Village

A Day in Bath

Two of my classmates and I headed to the beautiful city of Bath on Saturday. This peaceful town on the Avon River was the home of author Jane Austen for a time; it is the setting for her novels Northanger Abbey and Persuasion.

Bath was first settled by the Celts over 2000 years ago, with legend claiming that the local hot springs could cure skin diseases. The Romans established baths as a temple to Minerva, calling the town Aqua Sullis. The Roman Baths have been excavated, we walked through the tour. You can see the Baths' Roman reenactors below.

Bath was a lovely and relaxing change of pace from hectic London. Even crowded with tourists at the height of summer, there was a serene air about the town.

Regent's Park and Abbey Road

We started our day in Regent Park, one of London's many urban parks. I've been really struck with how much green space there is in a city this densely packed. Regent's Park alone is 410 acres. I met an acquaintance who moved from the US to London for dinner last night; she said it's one of the things she appreciates most about her new home.

I'm also struck by the wide variety of bird species that make their home in the park; the pond in Queen Mary's Garden was home to these two graceful black swans:

Queen Mary's Park is home to one of the best collections of roses I've ever seen, probably second only to the International Rose Test Gardens in Portland, Oregon:

We flew kites at the top of Primrose Hill in the park. Unfortunately, my poor little homemade kite did not work. It would catch the wind for a couple of seconds, and then throw itself suicidally at the ground. My classmates had better luck:

We walked back down Abbey Road, so here's my obligatory tourist photo (I didn't try to recreate the famous album cover, but some of my classmates did, you can check out their pictures at our class site):

The walls in front of Abbey Road studio are covered in the graffiti of Beatles fans.

Drawings of the Fab Four are popular, with John being a favorite.

Some of the graffiti is tongue-in-cheek:

And some people seem to be a little unclear on the concept: Correction: After speaking with an authority on rock history (AKA my husband), I learned that Pink Floyd also recorded at Abbey Road, so this isn't as random as it seemed.

Rainy day fun

At the end of a day spent dodging the rain that can you see above, my classmate Katy and I ducked into the overwhelming National Gallery. After being gobsmacked by the richness of the collection, we both decided to head to a temporary exhibition we were excited about, Close Examination: Fakes, Mistakes and Discoveries. It's on the use of scientific and art conservation techniques to prove forgeries, correct mistakes in attribution, and to help restore altered paintings to their original state. (Librarians in training, what can you do?) If you happen to be coming to London any time before September 12, it's worth a visit, if for no other reason than that many of the paintings themselves, even the fakes, are stunning. The exhibit includes Botticelli's breathtaking "Venus and Mars," so come for that alone.

Just in case you thought we'd created any totally new ideas in the late 20th century, a number of the works in the exhibit were paintings that had been reworked, generally by overpainting--arguably, a kind of early remix. For better or worse, art has long been in some part a business, and tastes change. A lot of the paintings had been altered to make them more salable. One Renaissance beauty was too hot for the Victorians, and so she was toned down. Another painting was altered to exchange a wounded man for a hunter's catch and dogs, presumably because focus groups of the time showed a preference for rural scenes with dogs over dying men. The big difference is that these remixes were unarguably destructive (at least until some very smart restorers got their hands on them). Building on someone else's work to create something new and transformative=cool. Destroying original artistic intent=not cool. For anyone that wants to learn more about the National Gallery's conservation work, selected articles from the Gallery's Technical Bulletin are available free online. You can find out more about the research the Gallery does here. Also, anyone interested in art forging has to see the part of Orson Wells' film "F for Fake" on Elmry de Hory; it's hard to separate truth from fiction in the movie, but the interview with de Hory is fascinating.

A slow return to the present

Even though we were still visiting the very old (Salisbury Cathedral) and the ancient (Stonehenge) today, I made myself focus on the present. It can be easy to forget, when you're in the haze of travel, that where you're visiting is full of people going about normal life. Since I've spent a lot of my life in or around cities that are major tourist destinations, I should know better, but I fall prey to this sometimes too. Stonehenge is in an agricultural area, surrounded by fields of barley and wheat and cow and sheep pastures. As we drove past, we could see farmers at work. Since it's been a dry, warm year the combines were already peeking out to harvest the wheat.

Salisbury Cathedral is the striking home of one of the four remaining copies of the Magna Carta, an early declaration of civil rights for citizens that lives on as the partial inspiration for the British Bill of Rights of 1688, the United States Declaration of Independence of 1776, and the United Nations Charter of Human Rights of 1948. (I really got chills being that close to a original copy of what is one of the most important works in legal history.) It is still a working Anglican church, as is Westminster Abbey. It's nearly impossible for me to imagine one of these magnificent works of art being the place I go for Sunday services, but Salisbury clearly has an active set of parishioners, as evidenced by these works by local children, organized by a local artist:

Salisbury Cathedral also contains a number of 20th and 21st century works, made all the more striking because of the medieval setting.

Even older things

Since we spent today at the British Museum, I can still keep musing about preservation and longevity. (I promise I'll stop soon.) The museum is simply amazing; the archetechture is dramatic, and it houses a number of well-known cultural items, including the Rosetta Stone and the Elgin Marbles. Many of the objects in the Museum are ancient, and most are originals, but for some few objects, the Museum holds exceedingly well executed copies or recreations (labeled as such). So what matters? The object itself, or the information the object contains?

Not to get too existential, but really, what is the "object" anyway? These painted fragments look odd and, frankly, gaudy to the modern eye. We're used to seeing these as pure white marble with clean, undecorated lines. But, when they were contemporary, many statutes would have been painted. So even when a full object has survived unbroken, on some level we're still not seeing an "original." We've learned to appreciate these works of art in a way that the artists' didn't intend. I'm not sure if it's good or bad, or neither, but it raises issues about how we maintain objects.

Sometimes damaged or imperfectly preserved objects can show us something new, like the brilliant blue that refracts from the broken edges of this glass bowl.

And sometimes, the fragments are just beautiful the way they are...

The 960 Year Old Door

Every time I leave the US for Europe, I am struck by just how much older cities are, and how much longer buildings have been standing here. The sense of an unbroken cultural history in England is staggering compared to the US's relatively brief existence. (I can't help thinking of Henry Gibson's particularly mean-spirited take on this, "200 Years" from Robert Altman's film "Nashville.") Westminster Abbey is a perfect example of this. The monarchs of England have been crowned here for nearly a thousand years. According to our guide, the legend goes that St. Peter visited two pilgrims in a vision and presented them a sapphire, which they brought the stone to William the Conqueror, the first king to be crowned in Westminster Abbey. The stone is still in the Imperial Crown.

Westminster Abbey also contains Britain's oldest door, built in 1050 A.D. Since you're not allowed to take photos inside Westminster Abbey, you'll have to trust me on this, or come see for yourself, but the door itself isn't exceptional looking. It's just an old, heavy, simple wooden door. If there hadn't been a plaque I probably wouldn't have given it a second look. At first, I was just a little amused to see the plaque, but as someone that's started thinking a lot about preservation lately, something about this door won't leave my head. Even though it's "just" a door, I do think there's something important about the fact that it's been standing for so long, and it's in a part of the church that's simpler and more austere than the beautiful but overwhelmingly decorated newer parts of the church, so it stands as a testament to changes in architectural styles, tastes, and capacities. Loss is inevitable; even parts of the Abbey have been lost and rebuilt, but of all the things that one might consciously pick to endure, I'm not sure that this door would be it. Nevertheless, I'm glad it made it.

I suppose that's part of what makes preservation so very difficult. You can't know in advance what's important. It's easy to think everything is important and want to save it all, but in a world of limited resources, that's not feasible. As we generate more and more digital artifacts, it's going to get even harder. Anyone who's interested in digital preservation will have heard computer expert Jeff Rothenberg's joke that digital media "lasts five years or forever--whichever comes first." There's very little doubt in my mind that, say, this blog won't last 960 years. If my little words get lost, it's probably not such a tragedy, but I wonder what we'll have lost out in 960 more years if we can't find ways to keep digital works going.