Reader's Exchange : Round Rock Public Library, Readers Exchange

Butch Cassidy and the Goblet of Fire

Linda Sappenfield — Fri, 24 May 2013 18:30:00 GMT

People are so quick to draw conclusions. So what if The Sting, The Natural, and Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid top my "10 Best Films List"? I also love Quiz Show and Ordinary People, for which Robert Redford was behind the camera. So there.

It's about film quality, really.

That, and obviously my regard for social history as represented in cinema. One can learn quite a lot about the almost-mythic significance of baseball by viewing The Natural. This selection also boasts a nice literary pedigree, inspiration by the Bernard Malamud short story of the same title.

However, as the host of last night's television screening reminded us, that back story has its own inspiration, an actual and early instance of celebrity stalking.

The near-fatal shooting of a popular Philadelphia Phillies first baseman by an obsessed teenage fan in 1949 was the basis for Malamud's story, published in 1952. The movie title actually references the nickname "The Natural" given to Eddie Waitkus (the stalker's target) during his rookie year.

I've always enjoyed Barbara Hershey's vampy portrayal of stylish, gun-toting Harriet, but since I've known the background's background I see the character working better as a nod to history than as a total invention.

The new film What Maisie Knew, starring Julianne Moore, is also based on short fiction--the Henry James story of the same name.

Call them tributes, adaptions, remakes or whatever, stories offering the extra dimension of literary or historical precedent intrigue us. Among scores of fictional scenarios inspired by well-loved themes, some--David Maine's The Preservationist (Noah and the ark), Erezebet Yellowboy's Sleeping Helena (Sleeping Beauty), Anne Fortier's Juliet--invite instant recognition. Neil Gaiman's American Gods , Margaret Atwood's The Penelopiad, and Rick Riordan's Percy Jackson and the Olympians(for young readers) also come to mind.

Others, like Eowyn Ivey's The Snow Child (a Russian fairy tale) and Jo Walton's Among Others (autobiographical elements, sci-fi fandom) offer the enrichment of prior influences and the challenge of identifying them.

Jessica Anya Blau's forthcoming The Wonder Bread Summer gives a nod to Alice in Wonderland--but be aware that Blau's darkly humorous, edgy take was judged by Kirkus Reviews as "meant to be Alice in Wonderland by way of Boogie Nights"; target your reading audience accordingly. Sean Pidgeon's Finding Camlann (2013) blends Arthurian legend and a thrilling archaeological discovery for mystery and literary fiction enthusiasts. Rebecca Kanner's Sinners and the Sea: The Untold Story of Noah's Wife (2013) offers the viewpoint about which we've long been curious.

You can easily discover more fictional treatments of your favorite historical figures, literary landmarks, or noteworthy events. Try searching the library catalog with keywords "fiction" and "Shakespeare" (or "Bible" or "mythology" or "Butch Cassidy", etc.) You can pinpoint fiction borrowing a specific real personality by searching "fiction" and (for example) "Dorothy Parker".

That strategy doesn't work so well with prolific authors like Henry James, but you can always search the author's name as subject, then browse to "fiction".

I'm mining the catalog right now. Guess whose name I just looked up?

Support your local EM

Linda Sappenfield — Fri, 10 May 2013 17:28:00 GMT

Boinnngggg.

You could practically hear last week's topic hitting a nerve, one in-house English major at a time. After I inquired which staffers claimed English as an academic concentration, "No" replies landed in my inbox; "Yes" folks responded in person. They needed to vent.

En route to other missions, fellow EMs veered over to the reference desk, confiding their pet peeves: mispronunciations, improper usage, acceptance of "impact" as a verb. One colleague confessed to embarrassment when he'd been asked to share which book he was currently reading--zombie fiction.

"Good for you!" I responded. English majors should embrace popular favorites. We reference this noble motive as we virtuously indulge in frothy romances, serial mysteries, and supercharged thrillers along with literary fiction. Despite our contentions that Middlemarch and Silas Marner are page-turners, we're fun people.

Because no one deserves a curmudgeonly co-worker, we save our venting about subject-verb agreement, comma splices, and the like for other EMs. If, however, a patron appears likely to submit that cover letter with errors beyond Spell-check's powers of recognition, we intervene. That's different.

Here's a verbal glitch you've surely heard: the assumption that nominative pronouns (e.g., "he and I") are always preferable to objective pronouns ("him and me"). Actually, when the element in question follows a preposition ("Oh, she's downstairs, waiting FOR _____ .") the objective "him and me" is the proper choice.

Oh, I see what happened just now. When "pronoun", "objective", "preposition", etc. registered, your brain cells commenced to fold their figurative tents and (say it with me, English majors!) "silently steal away" to any other topic.

More creative grammar grouches have packaged elucidation into hilarious but useful lessons. Based on the Facebook page, Sharon Eliza Nichol's I Judge You When You Use Poor Grammar furnishes amusement for all (and balm for EMs) with photographs chronicling missteps: grocery store sign hawking "personnel watermelons", zoo announcement for a "birds of pray" exhibit.

Columnist June Casagrande's Mortal Syntax and Grammar Snobs are Great Big Meanies deliver expertise with attitude. William Safire's How Not to Write: The Essential Misrules of Grammar entertainingly considers which grammar edicts may be disregarded (and when) with memorable chapter titles: Avoid run-on sentences they are hard to read; Never, ever use repetitive redundancies; De-accession euphemisms.

Venturing beyond mere grammar, engrossing treatments of language history and evolution include Ralph Keyes' I Love It When You Talk Retro: Hoochie Coochie, Double Whammy, Drop a Dime, and the Forgotten Origins of American Speech and Don Watson's Death Sentences: How Clichés, Weasel Words, and Management-Speak Are Strangling Public Language.

In deference to Mr. Watson's condemnation of trends in rhetoric (a view with which I agree), I should probably not suggest that, at this point in time, you elect to engage in a book-perusal event in order to qualitatively diversify your knowledge base with regard to jargon symptomatic of messaging entities...

Not that you asked...

Linda Sappenfield — Fri, 03 May 2013 18:44:00 GMT

Not everyone who works in the library is a librarian (technically, that's only the folks with MLS or MLIS degrees). And among the librarians, library assistants, and library associates in the building, a smaller percentage than you might think were English majors.

Fortunately. Every day, questions prove our wide-ranging accumulation of life experience, education, and prior employment to be useful.

Ideally, an English major would show you how to achieve parallel structure in your resume or advise which poem to select for a child who hates poetry but has to memorize some. In a perfect world, your assignment on workplace motivation would match you with a business or psychology major.

Nice, but not necessary. We learn from one another and remember who-knows-what for purposes of consultation.

Conversations in the break room or during pre-opening sometimes involve literary or academic topics as you'd expect. But we also consider, well, practically anything.   Following up on our own questions (some recent ones below), we discover or re-discover excellent resources for customer inquiries:

The origin of chicken-fried steak
As in, "Are you sure that's a Texas dish? I thought it was Midwestern." Evidence suggests a high probability that CFS is Texan and an even stronger likelihood that it's at least Southern. Handbook of Texas Online acknowledges possible forebears of CFS (wiener schnitzel, really?), along with three regional Texas permutations (also, the most common mistakes in preparation). Threadgill's: The Cookbook reveals the restaurant's wet-dry-wet "secret" method. Texas Eats: The New Lone Star Heritage Cookbook devotes an entire chapter ("Chicken-Fried Steak in Paradise") that you shouldn't miss, especially the Chicken Fried Steak Belt Theory.

How can they be bluebonnets if they aren't blue?
Sometimes described as "reddish" or "burgundy", a recent variety can be found at, among other places, Round Rock Gardens. For anyone enchanted by the intense hue inspiring our state flower's name, this tint is a bit of a jolt. Aggie Horticulture explains that we've always had variations of this flower, a fact which complicated legislation on its behalf.   The "Texas Maroon" bluebonnet boasts its very own chronicle.

Biggest/best Presidential library?
The new George W. Bush Library's homepage claims 70 million pages of textual materials, with supplemental records (e.g., condolence mail received by the State Department following the 9/11/01 terrorist attacks). According to the National Archives and Records Administration, the Clinton Presidential Library, with over 76,000 textual pages and additional holdings, offers the most resources.   The George W. Bush Library, according to NBC News, occupies the largest space: 226,500 cubic feet.

As for "best": If you're an architecture fan, you'll appreciate Jacqueline Kennedy's choice of I.M. Pei to design the JFK Library--unless you're more impressed by FDR's own sketch having suggested the look for his library. And so forth...

What happened to (the good) Cracker Jack Prizes? I can't answer that one. But you can revisit the glory days of in-the-box premiums at the Cracker Jack Collectors Association website or by reading articles like "Cracker Jack Collectibles" featuring CJ collector Jim Davis (Antiques & Collecting Magazine, Jan. 2005, p. 28-32) via the library's Masterfile online resource.

Very very very fine houses

Linda Sappenfield — Fri, 12 Apr 2013 18:39:00 GMT

This week, I found myself tracking former residences the way some people Google their old flames.

Leave 'em and love 'em: that's my motto. Of a dozen former homes, we've owned two. We were fond of them then, but they've acquired nostalgia value over time. The soft focus of receding memory masks recollections of the porch roof diabolically engineered to layer six inches of ice on the steps below, not to mention the second-floor A/C unit that expired, soaking the ceiling, the day after we took possession.

Memory isn't the only agent of flattery or enhancement. Thanks to Google Earth, I just viewed the charming effects of a subsequent homeowner's generous budget and vision. Reveling in its clever half-story to full-story metamorphosis and the perfect front door replacement, that property has manifestly not been mourning our departure.

I'm pleased for the home and its inhabitants, for myself, too: Google Earth's street view revealed that a tree cutting with sentimental value I planted there in the late 1990s survived and is flourishing.

Property ownership and romantic partnerships can similarly delight or break your heart, broaden your horizons, and furnish evidence that the other party has prospered in terms of success and attractiveness after you've parted ways.

All houses are potentially historic--at least to you. While the library isn't generally equipped with files of through-the-decades interior photos of local properties that we are sometimes asked for, we can share some engaging options for exploring property-related interests.

If the building in question existed a few decades ago in an area covered by Texas Digital Sanborn (Fire Insurance) Maps online, you can view its shape, proportion, and context (Was it next door to a livery stable, church, etc.?).

Our Historic Map Works resource offers graphical insights into both edifices and communities. I love its slogan--"Residential Genealogy". It's not just apt in perceiving what interests us amid bricks and shingles; it also suggests that, as in other aspects of family research, the odds of discovering what you hoped for are sufficiently uncertain as to guarantee jubilation when you succeed!

We continually discover informational gems regarding Round Rock's historic buildings in the Planning Department's Historic Preservation pages. If your home is not officially historic (yet), you might be more interested in Planning's other offerings: Building Inspection and so forth.

If you love before-and-after scenarios, don't miss WhatWasThere. For numerous Round Rock locations (and some other cities and towns), you can adjust the Google Street View slider to fade back and forth from past and present.

And of course our book collection, with selections ranging from Green By Design, Bungalow Nation, Creating the Not So Big House to House to Ourselves: Reinventing Home Once the Kids are Grown, can inform and abet any questions, plans, or fantasies you may entertain about your abode.

My fantasy: to own a Craftsman Bungalow someday. Not that I don't appreciate my 1980s two-story; we enjoy a wonderful neighborhood--and dry ceilings.

Here's your hat; what's your story?

Linda Sappenfield — Fri, 22 Mar 2013 15:15:00 GMT

Like all parents, I ponder the Generational Divide some days more than others. And this week? Well, it occurred to me that J.K. Rowling's great gift to humankind--the Sorting Hat--might represent the issue nicely. If the hat assigned generational membership, it might still consider age, but it would also pose a question: Which do you value more: representing yourself as a unique individual or deriving comfort from commonalities with others?

A solid member of the latter cohort, I've learned that special-ness comes at a price, as when the doctor, car repairer, roofer, or computer technician exclaims, "Wow, you almost never see that!"

We prove every day that informational resources at the library can match the sudden need for material on a newly prescribed diet, relationship miscue, or DIY assignment. And the most marvelous aspect of such guidance is the fact that it exists at all. Its availability reinforces one's inclusion in good company. Others have faced this situation, too!

But leave it to fiction to venture beyond mere answers, thus bridging across generations. Novels invite interpretation colored by the reader's background. Andre Dubus' engrossing House of Sand and Fog, for example, deals with home ownership but ultimately suggests more questions than answers with attendant emphases on prejudice and character. Jonathan Franzen's The Corrections, Jane Green's Another Piece of My Heart, and Rebecca Coleman's Heaven Should Fall are all "domestic fiction" but illustrate vividly disparate permutations of family crises. They appeal to readers of both types, those intuiting personal connection and those intrigued by the possibilities.

Other novels explore plots thankfully far outside average experience for any age or outlook. Debut author Kimberly McCreight's Reconstructing Amelia (available in April) and Kevin Powers' award-winning The Yellow Birds imagine, based on the authors' knowledge, darker scenarios involving school bullying, intrigue, and personal tragedy in the first instance and the Iraq war in the second.

Author of Faith Bass Darling's Last Garage Sale Lynda Rutledge was on hand at the Round Rock New Neighbors book discussion group (they meet at the La Frontera Barnes & Noble) earlier this week. Her story visits five generations of a prominent small-town Texas family, none of which communicate adequately with the others or relate in the same fashion to the valuable possessions accumulating in the family mansion. Acknowledging one plot angle particularly enjoyed by the group, Ms. Rutledge confessed her delight in having furnished readers information that even the characters didn't know.

Now that's an approach with universal appeal, further demonstrating fiction's powers of inclusion.

And in that vein I have to share a curious facet about another well-received novel from the past year, Ben Fountain's National Book Critics Circle winner Billy Lynn's Long Halftime Walk. Checking its availability at RRPL, I spied in its record a subject heading I don't recall encountering previously: "Football & War". Generational membership aside, to appreciate its aptness you just might need to be a Texan.

Oh, don't be so modest (just be accurate)

Linda Sappenfield — Fri, 15 Mar 2013 17:01:00 GMT

The customer isn't always right. On those rare occasions, it's fortunate if someone else has already said so.

That's what happened with the recent job hunter who slid his resume across the reference desk, sighed, and related his situation. After applying three times to an area employer with zero response, he was finally (and constructively) informed by an HR staffer: "You will never get hired with that resume."

Strong words, I thought, curious to see what could be so off-putting. Answer: everything. Inconsistent spacing and bulleting, clashing fonts, and grammatical errors immediately lowered the reader's opinion of the applicant--but at least they distracted from the content.

Chunks of text appeared to have been excerpted randomly from an in-house training manual. Descriptions of positions and responsibilities failed to cohere or to register a logical career progression. Instead of crisply proclaiming, "Here's how my experience and capabilities can benefit your company!" this resume shrugged, "Here's two pages of stuff..."

No one would match that document with the well-spoken, promising candidate at the desk; I agreed that the resume misrepresented him. Satisfied with the consensus of the Complete Rewrite camp, the patron cheerfully agreed, "I'm totally on board." Then he added, "It just needs to be quick."

Uh-oh. A competitive, from-scratch resume isn't a reference question; it's project--a serious one with a potentially life-changing payoff.

It's not the writing that's labor-intensive; it's the conceptualizing: selecting the words to prove that you're the choice among potentially hundreds; finding phrases to convey both hard experience and openness to learning opportunities. Sometime you also need to compensate for gaps resulting from relocating for your spouse's job, caring for family, the economy.

Hiring a resume expert is one solution, but where's the challenge (and savings) there? Using library resources, you could promote yourself better than anyone else can.

I showed the customer our array of resume guides; one even featured makeovers. ResumeMaker online could enable him to produce a professional-looking document, as would Job & Career Accelerator. And a colleague and I both quickly scanned his pages to share our first impressions. (I've read that first perusals commonly last ten seconds or less before submitted resumes are designated "discard" or "consider".)

You're wise to keep abreast of current resume style trends, too:

Strive for 1-2 pages in length (more realistic than the strict one-page model).
Jettison the "References on request" line; that's a given.
Envision your resume as a portal: provide links to your online publications, web page, LinkedIn (then keep these features updated).
Consider featuring an accolade from a supervisor, client, etc. (quotation similar to blurbs on a book jacket).
Drop the Objective statement, which can appear old-fashioned or limiting. Instead, compose a "headline" to snag readers' attention.
Customize each resume to echo when possible the same keywords used in that job posting. The initial reader may be a scanning program, not a human.

As always, rely on your knowledge of each employer to determine how edgy your style for that document should be. If possible, use multiple proofreaders to catch those little missteps before submitting your finished product; unless you're entering a bake-off, no one wants to read that you're a "roll model".

The quality of mercy

Linda Sappenfield — Fri, 08 Mar 2013 21:14:00 GMT

Not an ardent reader of Science Fiction, I approach it like a child lectured that eating vegetables is a Good Thing and should be undertaken frequently: I'm always glad afterward but rarely pursue the experience.

Predictably, when an advance copy of Ariel Djanikian's The Office of Mercy arrived among some historical fiction, chick-lit, and literary titles, I picked up everything else first. But then my Sci-Fi Deficiency instinct kicked in, and I scanned the cover more closely.  Sold!

It was the creepy eye that fascinated me. Strategically set in the foreground and encased in metal, it regarded me with a glazed, shattered look from an incongruous forest glade lit from above with eerie green shafts: definitely an Orwellian vibe.

Then, imagine my chagrin when, post-reading, I realized that the eyeball is a helmet with a shattered lens. For me, the lexicon of cover art graphics would suggest that helmet=classic sci-fi; eyeball=psychological or dystopian fiction. So let's call my error prescient; The Office of Mercy actually is dystopian. That's great news for Hunger Games fans.

Through the eyes of 24-year-old Natasha Wiley, readers absorb the sophistication and logic of life in America-Five, one of several domed communities dotting the map in the post-Storm world. As with the best of dystopian lit, the tone compels one to begin questioning the leaders' self-proclamation of utopian existence even before evidence to the contrary materializes. I enjoyed reading that, despite lofty posturings of ethical intent and carefully honed priorities, teams from the various Americas continually compete for population and "sweep" statistics. Some things never change.

America-Five's most solid claim to superiority: it has a library.   While other communities were buttressing their structures and gathering seed, livestock, and scientific supplies in advance of the Storm, only America-Five's directors had the vision to stockpile information: books, digitized data, paper records.   Eventually (this will not surprise librarians, educators, and city officials everywhere) the realization dawned that manuals for moral instruction and simulators for entertainment and schooling just weren't enough.

Citizens craved more: access to information "beyond what the individual memory could retain".

In the sleek, gadgety community--vertically stacked grain cultivation, labs stocked with genetically tailored replacement parts, textiles that regenerate when torn--the library boasts a couple of low-tech but much appreciated features: comfy plush chairs and soundproof conference rooms.

Hmmmm. We're frequently lobbied to acquire those things now. Some things never change.

I selfishly wish that Ms. Djanikian would pen another story (The Office of Mercy is on our March order list), this time starring the library. Our staff could propose innovations to maximize its appeal:

Keyboards and workstations that self-sanitize after each logout
Study rooms that morph to accommodate 2 to 20 people without changing the footprint of the space
Window blinds that allow all the natural light into the building despite being closed by the single reader sitting in front
Even more plush chairs and soundproof rooms

Not that we deserve creativity points; we've just been listening to our customers.

Never enough awards for "Best Supporting..."

Linda Sappenfield — Fri, 22 Feb 2013 20:21:00 GMT

I spotted Wonder Woman in the library a couple of days ago. Or maybe it was Super Mom; there's scarcely any difference.

The first clue to her identity was the adorable napping baby nestling in a handmade sling tied jauntily around her shoulders. Without apparent effort, she managed a reading list, a mammoth shoulder bag, and two other children, aged about four and two and a half. Obviously schooled in Proper Public Behavior Especially in Libraries, the older kids giggled and stage-whispered and held hands, generally being charming with only an occasional soft verbal reminder from Mom. Her nonverbal communication powers were awe-inspiring.

We witness many amazingly focused parents, serenely juggling parenthood and information seeking in this most challenging venue, the "quiet floor" AKA upstairs at the library.

No ribbons or statuettes (or, better yet, spa vacations) are awarded for such feats, but they are quietly applauded.   Everyday nurturing, heroically supportive stuff of all kinds inspires authors these days.

Fictional accounts of military families and spouses provide insights appreciated even--or especially--by those not directly affected by postings and deployments.    Siobhan Fallon's You Know When the Men are Gone, set in Ford Hood, Texas (where the author lived for three years) examines daily lives of base residents; story titles include "Leave", "Gold Star", and "You Survived the War, Now Survive the Homecoming". Other novelists and romance writers taking up this theme include Kristin Hannah (Home Front); Sally John and Gary Smalley (A Time to Surrender); and Ellen Hopkins (Collateral).

To discover more novels like these, try searching the library's catalog with subject "military spouses-fiction", "families of military personnel-fiction" or combinations of keywords such as "fiction military Afghanistan".

Some wonderful reads imagine (based on historical research) lives of spouses with another special concern: celebrity and consequent scrutiny surrounding the husband: Curtis Sittenfeld's American Wife; Sena Jeter Naslund's Ahab's Wife and Abundance: A Novel of Marie Antoinette; Ann Beattie's Mrs. Nixon; Melanie Benjamin's Autobiography of Mrs. Tom Thumb; Paula McLain's The Paris Wife.

Maxine Kenneth ramps up the fictional component: her Paris to Die For and Spy in a Little Black Dress portray Jacqueline Bouvier (pre-Kennedy) as a CIA trainee and spy.

A marvelous story that etched itself into my memory decades ago (others claim this, as well), Mrs. Mike by Benedict and Nancy Freedman, follows a gently reared city girl who marries a Canadian Mountie and relocates to the wilds of northern Alberta in the early 1900s. Read
it and you'll agree with its "classic" status.

Novels attuned to supporting players demonstrate how partnership with someone in the public eye elicits (at least sometimes) strengths rivaling those of the better-known spouse.

Zelda Fitzgerald, for example, occasionally channeled her spunkiness into advertising for F. Scott Fizgerald's books. Reporting that she'd recognized bits of her old diary in This Side of Paradise, she invited readers' curiosity by joking, "Mr. Fitzgerald--I believe that is how he spells his name--seems to
believe that plagiarism begins at home."

Living in the Sticks-and-Stones Age

Linda Sappenfield — Fri, 15 Feb 2013 23:18:00 GMT

I should appreciate my colleagues in City of Round Rock's Communications division more. Sure, they've been kind and supportive of this blog all along, but now it appears that they've been bravely fostering a risky venture. Consider the case of a university librarian in Canada who's being sued for 3.5 million dollars.

The librarian in question, who initiated his blog for his students' benefit, describes that content as "mostly about my random thoughts on libraries, the media, and so forth". The controversial entry (later un-posted) concerns a publisher whom he allegedly deemed "dubious", judging some of the company's academic books to reflect "second-class scholarship".

As a fellow librarian blogger with similarly random content and a decent-but-not-spectacular readership, I commend his intentions. Like you, I'm a taxpayer. Anyone charged with spending funds on books and other acquisitions, as public librarians are, aims to gratify the audience's needs and interests and not expend dollars on unworthy materials. Expert opinions are essential, but a single one isn't going to rule the day.

Happily for me, I work with fiction, that wonderful and subjective universe which grants value for reasons beyond factuality or currency. An author who's been pilloried by the critics may be adored by the book-buying (and library-going) public. In the same afternoon we might overhear one patron grumble that he can't understand why the library would waste money and shelf space on Author So-and-So's "fluff" only to note another customer lamenting the interval before Author So-and-So's forthcoming installment.

Evidence that fiction offerings don't escape evaluation, the reviews I relish most involve less than flattering pronouncements. Reviewers devote especial creativity to those, as in the assessment of "too much wuthering, too few heights" or "extends the hackneyed into the realm of the ridiculous". Should I ever publish a novel myself, frankly I'd prefer a "what was she thinking?" reception over the tepid "somewhat enjoyable" verdict rendered in one of this week's reviews. Ouch.

Along with professional reviews, publisher marketing, forecasting at events like Book Expo America, social media, and bestseller lists, librarians heed customer preferences, even when our patrons disagree among themselves.

Last Monday, a purchase request for Cora Harrison's Chain of Evidence landed in my email. "You already have all of her previous books, and they are wonderful," the requester commented. "Please purchase it!"

We certainly will. Cora Harrison isn't a high-demand name here (yet), but her Tudor-era mysteries set in western Ireland are gaining a following. If you try and appreciate Ms. Harrison's series, you'd probably also savor comparable works by M.J. Trow, Cassandra Clark, Peter Tremayne, Priscilla Royal, and C. J. Sansom.

And then you can alert me should the library experience a series gap that should be remedied or updated. While attorneys parse one librarian's opinion, we're glad to focus on what readers think.

My kingdom for a repair estimate

Linda Sappenfield — Fri, 08 Feb 2013 17:06:00 GMT

If a significant artifact on the order of Richard III's skeleton is ever unearthed around here, I like to believe that the find wouldn't instigate an internationally publicized squabble between,say, Round Rock and Pflugerville. Emotions run high when honor and tourism are at stake. Couldn't Leicester and York both benefit from returning the remains to York for burial? Leicester could focus on a visitor center chronicling the dig and discovery; York could promote the burial site: traffic neatly distributed, two revenue-generating gift shops.

In truth, the controversy does appear to center on finer feelings of loyalty and respect for the dead. York gets my vote. The king had established happier connections there--childhood spent in the region, visits to the city, etc.--whereas Leicester signifies the venue to which his corpse was carted, post-battle, to be hastily stowed for eternity in a grave too short to accommodate his height.

One could argue that if Richard III deserved half the notoriety attributed to him since his demise (no one's actually proven that he had his nephews killed...) entombment under an eventual parking lot would be about right. However, the king has a considerable body of defenders (and not just the Richard III Society). Just serves to demonstrate that when one is gone, the world does indeed continue to spin.

I would give a boxful of autographed advance reading copies to have witnessed the archaeologists' gleeful realization that the skeleton already deemed "of interest" exhibited that distinctive S-curve of the spine. It's enough for me to imagine that Best Moment Ever--and to speculate which books in our library's collection might be just the thing for others fascinated by their amazing feat of retrieval.

These novels all feature archaeological discoveries in England, Scotland, or Ireland:

Haunted Ground by Erin Hart
The Shadowy Horses by Susanna Kearsley
The Island House by Posie Graeme-Evans
Finding Camlann by Sean Pidgeon
To Dream of the Dead by Philip Rickman
The Moon Tunnel by Jim Kelly
The Bone Garden by Kate Ellis (part of the Joe Plantagenet series, no less)

Speaking of fortunate excavations and how valuable things come to be buried: I've been reminded this week how that can happen with library resources.

One of our handiest databases, Auto Repair Reference Center, might escape notice simply because it's one among many databases on offer. Even if you've used it to look up service bulletins or wiring diagrams, you could miss "Labor Times", listed (for most vehicles) near the bottom of the topics page. If your vehicle is included, you can use that feature to learn, before you take your car in, how much time is required for the repair and approximately what it should cost.

Oh, and Janette from Youth Services alerted us yesterday about this nifty option in World Book Online: under "Specialty Sites" you can select Craft Corner for age-appropriate educational craft projects.

Maggie Smith's Bacon number: 2

Linda Sappenfield — Fri, 01 Feb 2013 18:38:00 GMT

Did you know that the library's getting a new webpage? Watch for it this spring. We're already generating content ideas, including more "If you like.." features: additional reading options inspired by favorite authors or themes. Susan from Youth Services suggested a brilliant one--recommendations for Downton Abbey addicts. Done!

FICTION: Habits of the House by Fay Weldon; Summerset Abbey by T.J. Brown; The Buccaneers by Edith Wharton; The Remains of the Day by Kazuo Ishiguro; The Shooting Party by Isabel Colegate; The House at Riverton by Kate Morton, Ashenden by Elizabeth Wilhide; The Uninvited Guests by Sadie Jones, The Golden Prince by Rebecca Dean.

MUSIC CD: Downton Abbey: the Essential Collection

NONFICTION: Below Stairs: The Classic Kitchen Maid's Memoir by Margaret Powell; The World of Downton Abbey by Jessica Fellowes; Lady Almina and the Real Downton Abbey by Fiona, Countess of Carnarvon; The Chronicles of Downton Abbey by Jessica Fellowes; The Perfect Summer: England 1911, Just Before the Storm by Juliet Nicolson; English Country House Interiors by Jeremy Munson; The Mitfords: Letters between Six Sisters

DVD: The House of Eliott series; both Upstairs, Downstairs series (original and recent); Gosford Park; Jeeves & Wooster

But a funny thing happened on the way to compiling this list--sort of a Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon experience, only with author Henry James.

Examples: Cora, Countess of Grantham, qualified as a "Buccaneer" (moneyed American beauty on the hunt for an English title to propel her into the upper echelons of society). Edith Wharton, who authored The Buccaneers, was a good friend and literary colleague of James and even campaigned for him to win the Nobel Prize. DA notables Dan Stevens and Michele Dockery appeared in a UK filming of James' haunting The Turn of the Screw. Dan Stevens currently stars (with Jessica Chastain) on Broadway in The Heiress, adapted from James' Washington Square.

Remember (regarding Edith's letter to the Times editor) the dinner-table allusion that "one of the Churchills" had ventured into journalism? Well, among numerous other celebrities of the age, Winston Churchill's mother, Lady Randolph, (AKA Mrs. George Cornwallis-West at that time) consulted James regarding the profitability of lecture tours.

Elements of DA that resonate with American viewers--class distinctions giving way; clashing American and European mores (American energy and spirit vs. hidebound tradition); social complexities, not to mention elegant living and circulating among the "best" circles--characterize HJ's work, too.

James' hallmark, psychological realism, may not be the primary draw for DA aficionados. But if you're engaged by the developing thread of the Earl's misfires in paternal influence or Isobel's awkward forays into social activisim (especially if you enjoy speculating on her motives) you might be a James reader and not know it.

If you could only try one James story, make it The Beast in the Jungle. Other wonderful introductory options are DVDs: The Golden Bowl (Kate Beckinsale); Wings of the Dove (Helena Bonham Carter), and The Heiress (Olivia de Havilland). The library has two excellent fiction books--Colm Toibin's The Master and David Lodge's Author, Author--starring Henry James at crucial junctures in his life.

James, whose reputation and work demonstrate remarkable staying power, was quite modern in some ways: membership in a famously dysfunctional family; cool, trendy friends (Mark Twain was a favorite correspondent); edgy writing schedule (creating serial installments for magazine publication from month to month). He was even a recycler of sorts, significantly revising and repackaging and translating storylines from stage to page and vice versa.

You may find yourself an HJ convert. If not, no problem. As James observed via a character in Portrait of a Lady: "I don't want everyone to like me; I should think less of myself if some people did."

Try our 2 percent solution

Linda Sappenfield — Fri, 25 Jan 2013 17:20:00 GMT

Could have been the caffeine: twenty ounces of home-brewed latte consumed in a brief commute produces an adequate jolt. But I suspect that NPR's "2 percent" story (thank you, Neda Ulaby) was the real morning brightener.

Pop culture blogger Linda Holmes cited "an axiom of television comedy writing", the expectation that certain jokes and references will likely be understood by about 2 percent of the audience. Terms like "dislocation", "fragmentation", and "polarization" abound in similar discussions of contemporary American culture.

Nice to know that I'm not alone in sometimes missing references to the latest reality show phenom, YouTube record-breaker, or music industry sensation du jour. So long as I don't expect everyone else to fret about the trajectory of e-book vs. print circulation forecasts or discuss relative merits of Emilio's and Anthony Ryan's runway collections, I should get a pass for not tracking the saga of Manti Te'o's girlfriend, right?

In a world of proliferating sensations, social channels, and apps (have you tried the Chihuly digital glass-blowing one?), we run the risk of limiting personal growth by spending too much time--especially online--ensconced with others sharing the same priorities and skill set.

Granted, once you venture beyond your comfort zone, you face a daunting array of opportunities competing for your time and loyalty. To address the learning curve for cultural literacy, you need a staff of assistants to monitor all those fronts for you--or at least a toolkit of go-to resources.

Here at the library, we have a nifty, instantly accessible solution to this very problem: library staff.

I find that American Dialect Society's Words of the Year offers an insightful rundown of recent invention in language usage that also encapsulates significant trends. But of course that (along with Atlantic Wire's Books We Loved in 2012) is squarely in my English-major bailiwick.

To diversify my informational portfolio, I rely on co-workers like fellow reference staffers Geeta and Chris. Their recommendations: tech sector sites Ars Technica and Engadget and social news sites Reddit and Alternet. (Reddit's alien icon perfectly captures that "stranger in a strange land" feeling that most of us experience with increasing frequency.)

Add to that expertise my daughter's favorite daily update: AppsGoneFree, the app that alerts you which apps can be downloaded for free that day.

And you can still count on live, in-person advice on what to read at the Reference Desk. Titles on my mind this morning include not shiny-new bestsellers but books read last year and still recalled fondly this year: Karen Thompson Walker's The Age of Miracles, William Landay's Defending Jacob, Amanda Coplin's The Orchardist, Lance Weller's Wilderness.

Finally, no mention of popular culture is complete without a nod to Angry Birds, Honey Boo Boo, or the Dos Equis guy. I don't always reference commercials, but when I do, I plug my favorites.

...and a beastly New Year

Linda Sappenfield — Mon, 31 Dec 2012 21:37:00 GMT

Hi there. What's your sign?

Sounds just as creepy online as it does in person, but it relates so well to a New Year observation.

According to Chinese astrology, February 10, 2013 opens the Year of the Snake. Given the popularity of library mascot Rocksssanne, every year at Round Rock Public Library is the year of the snake. Still, who doesn't appreciate guidance for one's annual expectations, particularly when it's signified in terms of an easily relatable animal persona?

Though I'm impatient with glib political rhetoric that glosses over sticky realities or the immense diversity of situations, I'll cheerfully sample astrological predictions directed toward huge segments of the population. History does not record my ever altering travel plans or schedule or delaying an important purchase based on the day's predictions. I have, though, reconsidered my approach to anticipated conversations or adjusted the tone or frequency of certain phone calls or emails. You know the reason why: despite discountable prognostications, horoscopes frequently lend wisdom by advocating patience, understanding, forgiveness...

I just checked my (vastly oversimplified) Chinese zodiac personality and outlook for 2013. Am I allowing myself to be shallow while not affording politicians the same privilege? Probably. But you might enjoy peeking at your sign.

You'll be reminded that that understanding of animals and their unique characteristics transcends cultures and demographics. Further, there's evidence that all animals have potential to reveal unexpected dimensions of their characters and capabilities. In a global culture/economy, the folly of underestimating others merits caution wherever we can experience it.

Finally--and self-servingly--one's fortune may prove to be a day-brightener. Did you know that my (Sheep/Goat) personality is considered highly creative, charming, tactful, sensitive, elegant, altruistic, intelligent, artistic, and refined? As for the elements of insecurity, disorganization, lack of ambition, and capriciousness: I elected to gloss over those. That's where the tact comes in.

At any rate, it seems appropriate that Round Rock New Neighbors book group chose Aravind Adiga's The White Tiger (a personal favorite) as their first discussion pick of 2013 (Jan 21; more details here). In The Life of Pi, Elsa Watson's romance Dog Days (named a Publishers Weekly "Best of 2012" pick), Spencer Quinn's Chet & Bernie mysteries, Betty Webb's Gunn Zoo mysteries, multitudes of fantasy tales invoking the power and mystery of dragons--the beastly element, treated whimsically, metaphorically, or otherwise, provides authors scope for expressing what brings out the best and worst in humans.

Naturally, these forthcoming titles, all due out in January 2013, caught my eye. You, too, may be intrigued by them: Tiger Rag by Christopher Nicholas; Tin Horse by Janice Steinberg; White Dog Fell from the Sky by Eleanor Morse.

This November, success is in the bag

Linda Sappenfield — Thu, 15 Nov 2012 18:06:00 GMT

If you hear an odd metallic noise anytime in November, just ignore it. It's the sound of literary standards being ratcheted down another notch.

Under normal circumstances, we readers maintain the loftiest of expectations, which of course do not include cliché's, repetitive word choices, or plot mechanisms that either strain credulity or just downright insult it.

But these are extraordinary times, my friend. November is National Novel Writing Month, and this year I am (usually late at night) concocting what is tentatively dubbed Another Terrible Novel. Given that 50,000 words are required to cross the finish line on November 30, I'm not far behind the pace at my current 22,184. This sum has only been achieved thanks to vats of caffeine and no thanks to a few unscheduled events of the sort that promise to continue throughout the month.

Does this sound like an excuse for a further diminishment of prose quality over the next two weeks? Oh, good; that's a relief. To be fair (to myself) we NaNoWriMo aspirants know at the outset that quantity really is the goal. To produce a 150-page document in 30 days, writers are compelled to "just go with it". In the sheer desperation of getting something--anything--down on the page, they are driven to thoroughly ransack their memories and psyches for material.

The process is much like finding oneself back in elementary school; it's lunchtime, and you're opening the mysterious brown paper bag that you've carried all morning but didn't inventory until this minute. Clearly requiring sustenance, you dig deep and drag everything out.   Appalled at first by offerings that look unpalatable (to you and, you're sure, every other person in the lunchroom) you check again--and spy a raw vegetable slightly past its prime.

Now, you're generally more of a cheese-and-crackers or apple sort of person, but those options aren't present. Suddenly that carrot or whatever represents all manner of possibilities. With creative thought, it could be rendered quite satisfying.   And--on a very few occasions--you peer into the sack just once more and discover a tantalizing morsel that anyone would covet. You had only to delve into those dark recesses.

This all explains why writing quality occurs as a happy surprise, not an expectation, when the writer grasps frantically to fill in a blank. I once noted that, in an otherwise nicely written novel, the author chose the phrase "shaped like a sarcophagus" enough times that it evolved into a joke, detracting from a more than competent story line.

Last week, on the verge of creating a time-traveling heroine deserving of a dashing name, I assisted a library customer searching for a book by legendary French chef Auguste Escoffier. Brilliant! That night, my character was christened "Augusta".   And I realized how unsuspecting library customers could aid me in answering the 50,000-word question. I only have to pay attention. And they'll easily find me at the reference desk. It's as large as a sarcophagus.

We must be counter intuitive

Linda Sappenfield — Tue, 06 Nov 2012 18:24:00 GMT

You've heard that caution about never asking a question to which you don't know the answer; it's generally referenced in legal contexts but could be dicey for public services, too.

Ever since Michelle, our director, announced that a consulting firm would conduct focus groups and surveys for the Library Master Plan process, we've felt awfully curious about what our patrons would rate Good or Not So Good (actual category names). We're still accepting survey responses and will need to await the final accounting, but we've seen a sampling already.

Rather than many repetitions of a few themes, our patrons conveyed opinions on a wide array of topics, from the scarcity of transit options to an impression that we focus too much on children.

One we haven't heard in a while: in the "Not So Good" column, one customer commented "Miss people behind the counters."

We understand. The first time I ventured into the library as a new resident in 2005, I was amazed to find many library staffers visible on first floor, at and behind the counter, shelving and checking in books; there was no behind-the-scenes circulation workroom. The library's renovation carved out a check-in room and gallery display/seating area in the square footage formerly carpeted with book carts. Along with our Children's area, the grownups' part of first floor is now a destination, not just a path to checkout.

The downstairs Public Services Desk was reconfigured for compactness but still accommodates a live staffer and our self-check machines; those allow the deployment of other humans for tasks machines can't do. Thus, we manage to serve an ever-growing population.

You'll still find friendly faces behind the counters. At the reference desk, we often hear stories that inspire a big "Great question!" smile. Recent examples...

The customer who requested "recipes in a jar" cookbooks: Ours had disappeared or were worn out. Theresa, our collection development manager, is on the case: 100 Easy Recipes in Jars and Mason Jar Soup to Nuts Cookbook are now on order. Here's the best part: the customer shared, as she departed, that she recently won a Ghirardelli baking contest and promised to bring in her winning recipe next time.

The couple with the unidentified painting: We figured out a strategy: send photos of the painting (reckoned by their conservator to be German and created 1850s-70s) to a museum in the region of origin. Asked who referred them to such a knowledgeable expert, they replied, "Itzhak Perlman." They'd lived in an area of New York favored by such notables as Perlman, Henry Kissinger, Jane Alexander (with whom they'd once Christmas caroled).

The ladies who brought in "Flat Sarah" and asked for Sam Bass information: Sarah was a substitute for the original Flat Stanley who'd sadly disappeared on his return trip from Europe. Being photographed with Sarah and Sam Bass (via computer screen), I observed that Sarah must be tired; her color looked a little washed out. "Oh, that", one of her escorts responded, "No, it's because we were taking her picture on the Round Rock and she fell into Brushy Creek!"