Vanilla and wood, mushrooms and sometimes cigarettes

Apparently, that’s some of the scent “notes” to be detected in the distinctive smell of “old books”. For me, old books are those manky things that it’s almost guaranteed I’ll need to copy/carry a big pile of, almost always when I’m wearing a white top. Orange/brown smudges from when they lean against you is maybe not the most professional of looks…

There’s even a test been developed to help determine damage to older books, based on their distinctive smell. From that article, I’ve now learned that books made between 1850 and 1990 are more likely to deteriorate quickly due to the level of acidity in the paper. However, I’ve also learned from experience that law books, whenever they were made, in the hands of eager solicitors may deteriorate faster than you would have believed possible too. Hello detached-chucks-of-books!

Of course, if you object to the old book smell, the Hive Mind of the Internet has a few tips for getting rid of it. Although I can’t say that the smell of pot pourri would be much of an improvement, in my mind. And there’s also this spoof “Classic Musty” spray, if you’re more inclined that way, or have created a Steampunk style library that you need to smell old, and fast, before all your friends start picking on you for being too modern….

A quick question for librarians

Are you overdue?

Do you have any books that you’ve borrowed, from any library, currently past the date they should have been returned?
Are they lurking, looking longingly at the door, seeming like they want to go home, making you feel ashamed?
This week, I have discovered that quite a few of my librarian friends are guilty of keeping books until they’re overdue. Yes, they know how to renew online, or on the phone, or in person, but…it doesn’t quite happen.
Is this one of the awful, secret truth about librarians? Do we know the rules so well we have a wild disregard for them? Is it one of the rules of Librarian Club? Are you an Overdue Librarian?

The mysteries of cataloguing

Cataloguing: an arcane art, where each piece of punctuation is significant, and commas and semi colons are all-powerful.

Well, they are in “proper” libraries, where in-depth research of esoteric points goes on, and the precise spelling of Christian names, and information such as when a person lived and died can be crucial in pinpointing obscure facts.
Here, we have our own catalogue system. It doesn’t have a name, but if it did, it would probably be something along the lines of “I need this book NOW, no I don’t care about the precise spelling of the authors middle name, or their date of birth.” I know, I know, it’s not snappy, but it’s accurate. Cataloguing demands are different in a commercial law firm: we don’t care about much more than what it’s about, who wrote, when, and what jurisdiction it covers. And what we really, really care about is “where the hell is it”. Law books are amazing: they have the power to move themselves from the library shelves onto desks, into folders, drawers, bags…all without anyone ever having touched them, or having any knowledge of the books existence. The same magic is happening in law library shelves all round the country, right now…
Yes: this was all triggered by seeing a catalogue record here. I remember when I did “proper” cataloguing like that at a previous workplace. I slowly worked my way through the shelves of superseded law book stock, adding them to the online catalogue. Occasionally I found little vellum covered and nail-studded gems of books secreted amongst the “newer” old editions: a low-tech way of securing the volumes that there was no space for in the safe…
Here, there’s no space for outdated information: we need it to be current, and in a hardwearing* format. When it’s too out of date, it goes to the big recycling machine in the sky (and no, I don’t feel guilty about destroying books: I do it with wild abandon, while laughing gleefully). We catalogue books as fast as we can, and have them grabbed out of our hands by lawyers keen to learn more about dilapidations (apparently, that’s not actually a term to be used with regard to faded pop stars) and delicts (also, apparently not a delicious sounding spread).
*As an aside: Butterworths – WHY do you insist on creating Handbooks whose covers appear to be made from floppy papier mache? I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but libraries do a crazy thing with their books: they shelve them. Which means standing them up on end. A book which has a spine and cover with the strength of damp kitchen towel does not tend to cope too well with the outrageous demands we put on it, like expecting them not to collapse instantly when you attempt to shelve them, causing a domino effect with surrounding books. Sure, watching a dozen books cascade off a shelf together is pretty, but when it’s happened for the umpteenth time, it gets kinda wearing. Make. Stiff. Covers. Kthxbai.