Search results matching tag 'Round Rock Public Library'

Heaven and Hell's Kitchen

Linda Sappenfield — Thu, 13 Jun 2013 16:31:00 GMT

"Such an amazing place," the customer observed dreamily. "But I don't suppose I could ever get in."

Nice to know that the Book Expo America photos I posted online conveyed the energy and special-ness of the event--noted authors by the score, acclaimed presenters, book giveaways, direct access to publishers. But (except for the new Power Readers option on the last day) you must be in the book trade to get in.

"For a serious reader," I confided to the library patron, "BEA is pretty much like Heaven."

I should note that BEA's venue, the Javits Center, lies solidly within the confines of Hell's Kitchen (explanations for the district's name abound). Newer appellations for the area--"Clinton" or "Midtown West"--just sound namby-pamby, don't they?

My accommodations were also located in HK. Frankly, I reveled in the opportunity to begin each day descending 51 floors by elevator, thanking the doorman for his aid (God forbid I should have to open the door), scooting into the Starbucks next door, and embarking on a ten-minute stroll to Javits with my favorite sissy beverage.

But somehow, claiming that I daily traversed half of the breadth of Hell's Kitchen on foot--alone--still sounds a little tough. Grit credit would be as undeserved as my dumb luck in having lovely relatives with a spiffy Manhattan condo.

But good fortune doesn't count toward Heaven. And a few other aspects of BEA align with the earthly realm, as well:

You can take it with you. You have to; of all the amenities offered by the huge convention center, none include secure, free places to leave your handbag or briefcase while you stuff tote bags with advance copies and other swag. You'll juggle three or four carryalls and the iPad or smartphone you're using to snap photos. If your arms aren't stretched a couple of inches longer after a day at BEA, you're just not trying.

Controversy is encouraged (if it's literary). Former U.S. Poet Laureate Robert Pinsky drew spontaneous applause several times during the Poetry Opens Doors panel discussion. His most memorable observation was provoked by earnest suggestions from librarians exhorting others to "push" poetry at every conceivable opportunity (e.g., displays at checkout stations in the manner of National Inquirer stacks at the grocery checkout). Pinsky objected, challenging the notion that poetry is "something to take care of as if it were sick."

Covetousness is (if not admired) part of the fun. Tote bags are serious business at BEA (check out one clever blogger's 2013 BEA Book Bag Awards--June 3). At some point, most attendees succumb to Bag Envy. The array of distinctive giveaways--massive red leatherette carriers, elegant black Hobbit bags adorned with a stylized dragon (I got one; it's a summer drawing prize), limited edition carryalls channeling LL Bean--is noteworthy. Even when you've acquired enviable bags yourself, your eye wanders to The One That Got Away.

Round Rock Public Library's Summer Readers' Bonanza begins Monday, June 17 (details available then), and you, too, might claim one of our divine BEA swag giveaways!

Sharing: an Empire State of mind

Linda Sappenfield — Wed, 05 Jun 2013 16:24:00 GMT

I don't have a photo of Dr. Ruth on my phone. But the gentleman behind me in the Sue Grafton autograph line at Book Expo America (New York City, last week) does. He'd spotted her in the cavernous Javits Center exhibit hall, asked if she could spare a minute, and--voila! (See my celeb photos on the library's Facebook page.)

Before we could share other sightings (Elizabeth Gilbert, Diana Gabaldon, Nathaniel Philbrick, Mo Willems, Julianne Moore, Amy Tan, Susan Mallery, Sylvia Day, Lemony Snicket, Tim Conway, David Baldacci, Paul Harding, Jonathan Lethem, Bill Bryson, (even Grumpy Cat), and dozens of other notables made appearances) Ms. Grafton breezed in ahead of schedule. Assessing the enormity of her queue, she checked in at her booth before embarking on a whirlwind tour of the line to greet all, especially those who'd be standing for the foreseeable future. She charmed all present and equipped us with enviable volumes (W is for Wasted won't be out until September.)

Why would publishers distribute freebies that the recipient now doesn't have to purchase and even risk major spoiler potential?

Libraries aren't the sales-killers you might imagine. When librarians render enthusiasm for forthcoming books, and when libraries offer access that builds interest in an author, title, or series--everybody profits. And we respect our readers too much to divulge what we shouldn't. (But it's OK to hint that Amy Tan's The Valley of Amazement--due out in November--is worth the wait.)

When I sent my daughter a photo of an epic queue threading around the ground floor, up the escalator, and onto the show floor, she responded, "So, is it pretty much like a Con except with fewer people dressed as Jedis?"

Probably. But BEA attendees likely demonstrate more consideration than most, and the rumors are more frequently substantiated--Diana Gabaldon's contract for an Outlander TV series, Brad Pitt's production of the TV drama based on Jason Mott's The Returned. I bagged an autographed advance copy of The Returned, published by Harlequin, due out in September, and expected to generate major buzz.

And speaking of consideration: choosing Ann Romney's autograph line meant missing out on Helen Fielding's session. But Ann arrived 25 minutes early and instantly settled in to chat with readers and sign pamphlets. Thanks to her solicitude, some of us could meet and photograph both authors--and be doubly impressed.

Book giveaways (limited quantities, first come-first served) I was especially gratified to snag include Jessica Stilling's Betwixt and Between (said to be "The Lovely Bones meets Peter Pan"), Elizabeth Kelly's The Last Summer of the Camperdown, Elinor Lipman's I Can't Complain, Lee Smith's Guests on Earth and poet Billy Collins' latest, Aimless Love. But then those copies of Elizabeth Gilbert's The Signature of All Things, Bill Bryson's One Summer: America, 1927, and A. Scott Berg's Wilson are calling to me, as well.

Next time, I'll post more details about upcoming library prize and giveaway opportunities for exciting BEA books and swag (because librarians always share).

We may even overthink that whole fairness thing. Late Thursday afternoon, the young librarian just ahead of me sighed exhaustedly, revealing that she had one more "duty" line before calling it a day. She'd promised a co-worker a particular autographed Romance book.

I had that very book in my bag and believed it to be replaceable the next day. So I offered it to her. She brightened for a moment, asked, "Are you sure!?" and began to reach for it. Then her Sense of Obligation kicked in, and she shook her head mournfully. "I just couldn't," she confessed. "I've got to earn it."

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."