Book Is Not a Four Letter Word

Book is Not a Four Letter Word

I gasped. I held my breath. And then I cried. All this within the space of a minute, over my morning coffee, while reading the newspaper, because I had just read that the headmaster of Cushing Academy prep school, Mr. James Tracy, had decided that his school,
after having amassed a collection of more than 20,000 books, had decided that they no longer needed a traditional library. The academy had decided to discard all their books and had already given away what stocked their sprawling stacks - the classics, novels, poetry, biographies, tomes on every subject from the humanities to the sciences. The future, they believe, is digital.
“When I look at books, I see an outdated technology, like scrolls before books,’’ said Tracy. “We’re not discouraging students from reading. We see this as a natural way to shape emerging trends and optimize technology.’’
The academy is spending $500,000 to create a “learning center’’. They are spending $42,000 on three large flat-screen TVs that will project data from the Internet and $20,000 on special laptop-friendly study carrels. Where the reference desk was, they are building a $50,000 coffee shop that will include a $12,000 cappuccino machine.
Can you get anything more natural than a flat screen TV or a $12,000 cappuccino machine? Henry Thoreau would be proud. Can’t you see him lounging near Walden’s Pond twiddling with his electronic Kindle reader adjusting the font size? Tell me am I crazy or is it the rest of the world?
I’m not a Luddite. I welcome technology’s improvements. I would just prefer that they not be forcibly thrust upon me so that I feel like I’ve been electronically violated. I do not understand how completely destroying a way of life to replace it with something new is natural. That is more like an urban renewal of the soul. Natural means evolving, slowly replacing the old bit by bit till you are not even aware of the transformation.
Tracy believes that his virtual library will be a model for the 21st century school. I pray not. It is interesting that while he has given away all of the school’s books his “office shelves remain lined with books.” But then I suppose a plastic box doesn’t look or feel as wonderful as a book made of paper and glue. That is part of the literary experience.
To be able to walk into a library or a book store and be held by the sight of rich colors, caught by the sensuous feel of thick paper and the very smell of the ink. To be able to approach a shelf and browse, leaf through pages, scan worlds. To be able to actually see the millions of books that men and women spent their lives creating. This sensual experience is part of reading.
Tracy claims that the books took up too much space. Yes they do! People, their thoughts, dreams, their lives take up space. You cannot put us all on the head of a very efficient pin. Like the lives they describe, books are messy. The walls of my house are lined with books. I’ve kept them from childhood, high school, college, friends. I still read what I wrote in the margins when I was 18 years old. I find notes, papers, pieces of my past, myself.
Years ago Steve bought me a set of Shakespeare’s plays. They weren’t new but lovingly used. I found the name of the original owner written in elegant script on the flyleaf, Hester E. Young, 1912. I found another inscription, Ray A Eucdern, 1910 plus a Valentine he received from his girlfriend, Margaret who was from Tabor, Iowa. I found French conjugations that he had written out on papers tucked between the pages of King Lear. These bits of the paper whisper hints of the past. I have yet to find anything tucked into a computer.
Being a foolish romantic about books, I find it ironic that Alexander Coyle, the chair of the history department at Cushing Academy, echoes my thoughts when he says that he sees libraries and their hallowed contents as secular cathedrals. And if every cathedral has a spiritual leader, for me it is Canton’s library director, Mark Lague.
I know that libraries must change to stay alive, that they can no longer be solely about books. Canton’s library has changed but thanks to Mark it has evolved, is still evolving, so that each return trip is not a shock but a homecoming. Mark did not feel the need to rip out every last book to transform our library into a vital community gathering place. He has shepherded us all into a new world where paper co-exists with machines.
“We used to be the keepers of knowledge,” he said. “Now we’ve had to re-invent ourselves and the way we are helpful to people.” And re-invent he has, but gently, paying attention to the way people interact with each other, with books and computers. Twenty five years as a library director has taught him the best ways to lead patrons and staff into the next century without having to completely destroy their past. James Tracy should take a page from Mark Lague’s library. And this Sunday when the Trustees, staff and friends of the library honor Mark we will all toast a man who understands that knowledge comes in many forms and that a traditional library can embrace them all.