Category: cataloguing

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 I slowly worked my way through the shelves of superseded law book stock, adding them to the online catalogue.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Here, there’s no space for outdated information: we need it to be current, and in a hardwearing* format. When it’s too out of date, it goes to the big recycling machine in the sky (and no, I don’t feel guilty about destroying books: I do it with wild abandon, while laughing gleefully).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.