Problematic Cataloguing

At the synagogue library, my co-intern and I have been going through *all* the books and re-cataloguing them. For the most part, we're following (fairly closely) what WorldCat tells us the Dewey Number is, but sometimes we're making up our own numbers. More on that in a moment. One of the reasons we're doing this is because whoever catalogued these things before did it in an incredibly illogical and incorrect way. Some things are in completely wrong parts of the numbers (in the 200s when they should be in the 800s, for example), but thus far, the vast majority of books are at least a little bit out of place. The ones we've been dealing with the most lately are the vast number of books on Judaism, Talmud, and so forth that have somehow been given call numbers which are for Christian and Christianity-related materials. We're unclear on how on earth the previous librarian(s) made this bizarre error, or whether it was an error at all. Perhaps the people just made things up.

Which would not, in fact, be *wholly* unreasonable. After all, too many of the books in that library are meant, according to WorldCat, to be call number 296. Which is hardly surprising: 296 is the catch-all call number for Judaism. If it's not the bible, or a book related to the bible, or the psalms or some such thing, there is no call number covering that. Those are numbers 220 through 224. After that, everything is Christian or Christianity-related until call number 288 (which is, incidentally, an "unassigned" number). Given this problematic fact, and the fact that we do not want a 296 section which covers twelve darn shelves, we too have been making alternate choices about where we want to put things. But our choices are logical: we don't avoid putting things on Jewish Mysticism in the 296s by giving them the "Christianity & Christian theology" call number, we use an unassigned number to create a Jewish Mysticism section. By the same token, we don't put a book on Yiddish literature in the section for Jesus and his family, we put them into the "Other Germanic Literature" section. Sometimes, when we want to keep things together because they are part of a greater topic - such as our "Life Cycles" section, which includes materials on birth, death, marriage, b'nai mitzvah, etc. - we choose a call number and *create* that section.

The point is, we're trying to maneuver around the Dewey Decimal system. The problem with that of course is that we shouldn't *have* to. But the Dewey Decimal system is, in many ways, horribly outdated. It was created in 1876, and though it has gone through many, many revisions (including one five years ago), it is still ridiculously unfair to many topics. How is it possible, for example, that there are 64 call numbers assigned to Christian topics (though that's not always obvious by the vague description for call numbers) and only one for Judaism (plus 5 for holy books, I grant you)? Incidentally, Israel does not have its own call number. Guyana does; Paraguay and Uruguay have one; Israel does not. Even more horrifying is the complete dismissal of Islam: there is only one call number for Islam, none for Islamic holy books, and in fact Islam does not have its own call number, but rather shares number 297 with Babism and Bahai. How is that possible? There is an entire call number for "Games of Change", but Islam cannot have its own number?

Perhaps, as my co-intern suggested, Library of Congress call numbers are better. It is true that they are more specific and provide greater variety of call numbers through the use of letters and longer call numbers. However, that specificity is also, in some ways, problematic. Perhaps university students have the patience to search for very precise call numbers with two letters and four numbers before the decimal and another six after the decimal, but your average person does not. In fact, many of the students I interact with here at the university library do not have the patience or the attention to detail necessary to find things with all of those letters and numbers. It can be very confusing for them and they get frustrated. I cannot begin to say how many times I have been told by a student that the book is not there, only to find it on the next shelf over from where they were looking because the call number was too long and confusing. So clearly the Library of Congress numbers, though more accurate, and not terribly user-friendly.

I am looking forward to taking cataloguing next semester and learning more about this problem. I'm increasingly inclined to just try making my own Dewey-esque system. Perhaps when I'm older and have been in the industry a long time, I'll lose my mind and decide to get a PhD and I will use the problems of the Dewey Decimal system as my topic. In the meantime, I'm just going to have to deal with the irritations of a system too old and too unchanged, for all its 22 updates.

Bizarre and Interesting Books

In addition to the job I hold as a reference intern at a university in New York, I am an intern at a synagogue library. My job, in essence, is to fix it, along with one other intern. We are at present combing through the books in the library to make sure they have proper call numbers and to determine if we think they are in the right place. Along the way, we have found some odd books. I would like to keep a running list of the strangest, or most interesting, books we find.

Interesting:

• A special edition copy of Ani Maamin by Elie Wiesel, number 339 of the set, autographed by Wiesel himself (and the illustrator).
• A first edition of The Sabbath by Abraham Joshua Heschel with actual physical prints of the pictures inside shoved into the book (how they never fell out is beyond me).
  

Interesting and Odd:

• Choosing a Sex Ethic: A Jewish Inquiry, by Eugene B. Borowitz. I don't think I need to explain why this is a little strange (or perhaps just interesting).

Just flat out strange:

• This is actually our favorite oddity that we've found so far. It is called Escape From the Holocaust by Kenneth Roseman and it is part of a larger series by that author. The series is the Do-It-Yourself Jewish Adventure Series. That's right: it's a choose-your-own-adventure book about the Holocaust. Other books in the series include: Jeremiah's Promise, where you are a young Holocaust survivor who has emigrated to Palestine in 1945; The Tenth of Av, in which it is the year 70, Roman soldiers have besieged Jerusalem, and you must choose whether to stay and fight or escape with the followers of Rabbi Yochanan ben Zakkai; and my personal favorite, The Cardinal's Snuffbox, which takes place during the Spanish Inquisition and has you making choices about whether you will leave Spain, convert, or probably die for being a Jew. I intend to find all of these books (since we only have Escape From the Holocaust) and read them. Hopefully a review will be forthcoming.

The odd things you find sometimes...
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A General Letter to Professors Everywhere

Dear Professors:

When you are putting together your syllabus, please put accurate information regarding what books and articles your students need. If, for example, your syllabus says that your students need Emergency Medicine Manual: A Comprehensive Study Guide, but that book doesn't exist, I'm a little stuck. If Emergency Medicine Manual exists, and Emergency Medicine: A Comprehensive Study Guide exists, but I don't know which one you're talking about, I can't do my job as well as I'd like. Also, please check your spellings of author names and, for that matter, your authors. If the author of the book is not so-and-so, please do not put that as the author, as it will confuse both me and your students.

I realize that you are extraordinarily busy. I was a teacher: trust me, I know. But please, take a little extra time to check your syllabus. I understand that typos happen: those aren't what worry me, as your students and I can figure out what you mean when spelling errors exist. But please, make sure you're giving correct information about what books your students need.

Thank you.

Love,
Your Librarian

Quiet Libraries

Quiet seems very much a thing of the past when it comes to libraries. That has positive and negative aspects, but I shan't go into that right now. I will soon, but not today.

Today I wanted to mention what it *is* like to be in a quiet library, but a library which is quiet in a rather dull way. Only 2 or 3 weeks ago I was actually shushing people (my first shushing as a librarian, how exciting!). Yesterday and today, however, silence, or at least great quiet, reigns in our space. This is, of course, because I work at a university library. The time between semesters is odd: nobody needs you, but there are many things you need to do. Simple things tend to be thrown my way, since I am the intern: check the shelves of the reference section, fix mistakes made by student workers (just because the TX's are here and the MR's are there does not mean that the label on the stacks should read "TX 472.37 --> MR 1253.C5 1998"), etc. I do not mind these tasks at all, and am glad that there is some non-hectic time during which I can do these things. But when I'm sitting at my desk waiting for the phone to ring, for someone to approach the desk, for someone to ping me on Live Chat, for someone to need me in some way...it seems very quiet indeed.

Why being a librarian can be uber fun, part I

Last week, I encountered a young man who had no idea what he was writing a paper about. He came to the reference desk and asked me to help him find books or articles on fashion and society. Clearly, this is an enormous topic and needed to be trimmed down. A lot. So we chatted about it and he explained, over time, what it was for. He had a class last semester (last year?) which he never finished and his teacher had told him to turn in a paper so he could be done. It was, apparently, a class essentially on globalization, or something to that effect. She had told him that, since he was interested in fashion, he should write his paper on fashion and *something*. So we talked and I suggested a number of things relating to fashion and its influence on society, particularly on gender roles and so forth. He loved this idea, so we found some books in the catalogue (unfortunately, many of them were at the university's *other* campus) and went upstairs to look at the books.

On our way to the section we needed to get to, he suddenly said to me "oh my god, that guy is *so* cute." We had already passed, so I did not see the young man, but I asked my patron about whom he was speaking. He described him slightly and I said I'd look on the way back. We found our books (not only the ones we were specifically looking for but a *ton* of others - let this be a lesson, researchers and librarians, do not underestimate the value of browsing) and headed back. He said to me "okay, don't forget to look, he'll be at the table to the right on the corner in a polo shirt". The man in question wasn't in a polo shirt, but I could identify easily who my patron meant: he was cute, and definitely the type I would have guessed my young patron would like. We discussed the gentleman's "adorableness" on the way downstairs, discussing the fact that what the young man was wearing probably contributed to his cuteness, since he was so neat and preppy (I figured we should discuss fashion and gender a little bit, since that was what I was getting him to write his paper on).

My patron and I parted as I returned to the reference desk with his great thanks and conspiratorial look which told me that he, like many similar young men, thought I was, as others have put it, "fabulous".

Being a librarian is fun.

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Being "in Progress"

When I was working toward my MAT, we were frequently told that we weren't going to be done learning how to be a teacher when we graduated. We weren't going to be done learning how to be a teacher after five years in the profession. And if we were good teachers, we would never be "done" learning how to be a teacher. I don't know whether that's the case in all professions (it probably is), but I am increasingly certain that it's the case in librarianship. With all the new databases, all the new books, all the rapid development of knowledge itself...how can we ever be anything but "in progress"?

But really, I suppose that rather gets to the heart of why I want to be a librarian. One of the fantastic things about working in a library is being asked questions which you don't have answers to, so you have to go find the answer and do research which you never would have done on your own. To be good at your job, you need to learn how to do your job better with the ever-changing available resources to get more information for the people asking you the questions. That was a little roundabout, wasn't it? My point is, if you're good at your job, you're never done learning how to be good at your job.

I am a librarian in progress. And I hope to be good enough at my job to always be that way.