nichole's auxiliary storage

Boing Boing: 1864 "Freedom Primer" for slaves scanned and posted

Cory effuses over a manuscript from the NYPL's Schomburg Center for Research in Black Culture...

When I see stuff like this, I sometimes get a thrill to my toes as I realize that practically every document of this vintage will soon be on the web and only a quick search away.

...because it's on flickr (one user's hobby - he's posted hundreds of these).

update: MeFi gets it in the first comment (for once). I won't waste pixels on BoingBoing again.

Pegasus Games anniversary

Our favorite game store's co-owner is interviewed briefly in the Wisconsin State Journal, in anticipation of their 25th anniversary bash. Listen to this:

"I don't think I could count all the parents that have come in and said how much the math skills and reading skills of their kids went up when they started playing these games," she said. "They have to do a lot of reading and deal with statistics." She said board games also help young people exercise and broaden their imaginations.

Movie time

JM's been busy so I've had time to see some movies off-list. (Oh yes, there's a list for movies too.) Recovering from a serious cinema-salt burn on my tongue. Can't resist the stuff.

Broken Flowers: Yes. The opening mail sorting scene made me think I might like to work in a post office. Good news is, I don't have to. I just took a dream job.

Me and You and Everyone We Know: Very pretty, but so many precious, sweet, "quirky" characters and scenes I wonder if she has anything left. Would have loved it if I were ten years younger. (The company and zucchini bread were great, though!)

Gunner Palace: Recommended by two friends with rather different political views from each other (as far as I know). I won't forget it. I can barely look at the kid on the poster. Thanks for the loan, John.

Flood

On July 22, we noticed some water seeping under the jail library's floor tiles from the neighboring bathroom, so we informed jail staff. The water seems to be clean but it keeps coming. The books aren't wet, but the tiles have started to buckle and crack.

"Literary rumpus rooms"

Hell Is Other Customers. Huh:

By making bookstores the equivalent of literary rumpus rooms, the bookselling giants have done much to obliterate the quiet, welcoming atmosphere in which people have space and peace to look over books [...]

Popular table games in prison

This great Geeklist was posted at boardgamegeek.com by a Wisconsin corrections officer. After #8 it gets silly - people just piled on with crime- and prison-themed games - but up to that point is fascinating. His top 8 are:

1. Dominoes
2. Spades
3. Cribbage
4. Chess
5. Schafkopf (probably a WI anomaly, and just among jail staff)
6. Risk
7. Backgammon
8. Jenga

Chess seems like the most popular game in the Dane Co. jail I go to. The list author writes, and I concur:

Chess is definitely present, generally by a small avid group of inmates. Perhaps because of that, it seems that chess is the game that the players most often may be of different racial groups.

I've seen some beautifully ornate homemade cribbage boards fashioned from boxes, and I'm sure some of our book covers go to this cause. The score sheets are so numerous I don't even bother to post them as jail finds.

Scrabble is big; some of the "better" pods also have Life and Monopoly. Inmates' preferences for games are also reflected in the kinds of books they request. Chess strategy, Scrabble dictionaries, and Hoyle rules for card games are always in demand.

There was a scuffle in jail last May over a card game that resulted in a deputy's sprained ankle. The players involved allegedly weren't all inmates, iykwim.

Busfoon

n. (bs-fn) A city bus rider who wastes everyone's time by delaying the boarding of new passengers by elbowing a path out the front door, rather than exiting smoothly by the rear door. (Those who must use the ramp or "kneeling" service of the bus are, naturally, not busfoons.)

Codex Seraphinianus

There have been a rash of news stories about books stolen from libraries and sold on eBay, from Prince George's County to Chicago and doubtless many other places. And I bought one by accident.

I first saw Codex Seraphinianus when I was a teenager in Milwaukee. My well-read boyfriend took me on a trip to the rare book room at the downtown public library, where we pored over its mysterious text and lush illustrations for hours.

In college, while working at the campus library, I rediscovered my interlibrary loan privileges and requested a copy of the Codex. It arrived from a library out of state and I marvelled at the fact that a library would allow it to circulate so far from home.

Enchanted by the book again, I clearly remember entertaining the thought of telling the librarians that I'd lost it, paying for it and keeping it for my own. But I couldn't do it. I thought of all the readers who might never see it if it were sitting on my pathetic little bookshelf.

A post on MetaFilter about an issue of the Grey Lodge Occult Review brought the book to my attention again. Every time that happens, I check online to see what's available. Copies are usually about $400. This time there was one in fair condition for $185. I jumped on it.

For two weeks, I awaited its arrival eagerly. The day it finally came I didn't recognize it at first, in its pillowy white packaging. Once I realized what it was, I opened the well-cushioned bag eagerly. (Forgive my shaky hands for blurring the picture.)

Opening the front cover, my heart sank at what I saw: glue marks from an inexpertly removed book pocket and gift plate.

I gasped when I saw the blacked-out library ownership stamp.

I could read through the black marker, faintly, the letters PUBLIC LIB, but couldn't make out the entire stamp. I'm ashamed to admit that at this point, I prayed that I wouldn't be able to figure out where the book had come from, and would thus feel okay about - if not justified in - keeping it. But the person who had altered the book missed a crucial stamp on "secret" page [18] (i.e., 29).

I looked up the library and checked their online catalog. It showed that they were supposed to own a copy. My heart sank and raced all at once. What could I do? I called them.

When I told the library staffer that I suspected I had bought a stolen copy of Codex Seraphinianus, she recognized the book right away. "Oh, the big black quarto! Yes, I think it has gone missing."

She looked it up and told me the Codex had been checked out four years ago and never returned. "Not as long as I'd thought," she mused, then said she'd have to ask the director what to do.

"Do you mind telling me how much you paid for it?" she asked.

"One hundred eighty-five dollars," I said. She gasped. I quickly explained that I'd been looking for the book for several years, and that this had seemed like quite a bargain.

She thanked me and took my number. The clock had started on my third fling with the Codex.

Late into that night, I soaked up the book. A summer thunderstorm roared outside while I wondered what the library director would say. I rehearsed scenarios in my mind. He might let me keep it! Maybe they didn't want it any more. Hard to imagine.

I would probably have to contact the book dealer and ask for my money back. Thank God I went through a reputable web site. I had the seller's contact information. Surely they would refund my money, then either have me send the book to the library, or back to them. I'd rather return it to the library myself, refund or not. Would I have to get tough with the seller? Say I'd contact the authorities? Threaten to tarnish their good name in the online seller feedback?

How would this end? Certainly not as I'd hoped, which had been with a slightly battered but still cherished copy of Codex Seraphinianus sitting on my (by now less embarassing) bookshelves. Now I was the receiver of stolen goods.

I dreamt of strange landscapes in vivid colors all night.

In the morning I asked my boss, at the library where I work, what I might expect. She recommended I contact my credit card company. They told me they could contest the charges for me, if the vendor didn't comply with my request for a refund. Doing so seemed premature.

The library director called me at 9:30. He sounded surprised and happy - surprised that his library had owned something that valuable, and happy that I'd come forward. He said he was also surprised that the patron who'd checked the book out was, in his words, someone from a trailer park, who probably didn't know what he'd made off with. (I doubt the patron's naivete.) Apparently the Codex wasn't everything that had gone missing with him.

I let the director know I was eager to send the book back to its rightful place, but he was concerned that I get my money back. He suggested I contact the vendor and we could go from there. He even said his library might be able to pay me something for the book if I wasn't able to get a refund.

"Oh my God," said the man at the vendor's when I called and told him I'd received a stolen book. He said he had to check with his supervisor, but took all my contact information and that of the library's and assured me that it would all get straightened out as soon as possible.

I hashed and rehashed the possibilities with my family until they were sick of hearing about it. In the end, I was pretty sure I would have to return the book to the vendor, get a refund, and have the library and the vendor work it out themselves.

On the morning of the third day, there was an email from the seller waiting for me. In it, he apologized and said that he had recently bought the copy and "whilst it was clearly ex-library," they had assumed it was a discard given its poor condition.

He said he'd contacted the library director, and that the director was in turn contacting the store my seller bought the book from via - where else - eBay. He, like me, was not clear whether I should return to them, and they return to the store, or whether I should forward directly to the library.

"This is not something we have experienced before," he wrote, and apologized again. I was impressed with the sincerity of the message, and began to feel less anxious about the situation.

I replied that I would send the book wherever he and the library director agreed I should. I also said I'd consider, instead of a refund, a credit towards another copy of the Codex in better (and presumably never library) condition. After coming this close to having my own, I was beginning to feel sad about having to go back.

The next day was silent except for a brief acknowledgement from the seller that they could work on an exchange for me.

It's now been three weeks with no further word from the seller or the library. The Codex might just be mine to keep, if I can live with myself.

Shufflehack

Another use of the librarians' hallmark:

Once perfected, this approach will obviate my need to keep the shuffle in less decorous places. Perhaps I can grow enough hair to conceal the whole thing. And find a friend to take a better picture.

Patron saints of librarians

I didn't know there were so many: St. Larry and St. Jerry and, of course, Catherine (but she's pretty busy). Medical records librarians even have their own patron in St. Raymond of Penyafort. Thanks to  Filipino Librarian.

Devin Davis at the High Noon Saloon

It's a rare show that I go to on four hours' notice, on a Monday night, but I'm so glad I did. It was great. Oh, and look at this! Someone knows how to charm librarians (or bookish types, at least.)

(Also the High Noon gets bonus points for having Berghoff dark.)

Fotonovelas pulled from Denver library shelves

Bad Language, Naked Ladies, and Other Threats to the Nation just moved to the top of my reading list. LISNews reports.

Sexually explicit Spanish-language comic books are being removed from Denver library shelves and sent to downtown headquarters for inspection, library officials said Thursday.

The books, called fotonovelas, were flagged by talk-radio host Peter Boyles this week. The KHOW- AM Web site Thursday had the headline: "Shocking Content Found on Denver Public Library Shelves."

One commenter asks, "Why would anyone put something out without having a clue as to the content of the material?"

Can we assume cluelessness is the case? Did the librarians who bought Los Tigres del Norte and Los Tucanes de Tijuana CDs for my library, based on their chart performance, know they were buying the Spanish-language parallels of gangsta rap?

I hope these are both examples of a sincere attempt at balanced collection development. These materials are part of the culture. If the community wants them, they belong in libraries. </soapbox>

[Amanda, this one's for you! I'm blogging my fingers raw here, how about a comment? :) ]

We do too!

Protest I too much? Excerpt from Jessamyn's IM with a patron:

jessamyn : there ARE jobs if you don't like people too :)
jessamyn : catalogging and other back room jobs
jessamyn : which are very important

Emerging treats

Cute typo from the LC Authorities. Via AUTOCAT.

Got some books for the jail

from a Friends of the Library sale. Some highlights:

• An AAA tourbook (specific request - amazing the number of people planning a move)
• A Jump Start comics anthology
• Egotrip's Big Book of Racism!
• Anatomy coloring book and New Drawing on the Right Side of the Brain
• Chicken Soup for the Country and Mothers' Souls and Chocolate for a Woman's Courage (both series are popular)
• United States of Wal-Mart

In case it's not obvious, I'm also digging on OpenWorldCat's URL syntax for books. Wonder if I can get TypePad to change their default "reading list" link destination from Amazon to WorldCat ...

Madison's coolest places

The downtown library makes the list:

Rather than head home to refresh my being, I decided to walk until I found a building suitable for a few hundred Madisonians to cool off in if they chose to. My first stop was the Downtown Madison Public Library, but the only reading I was going to do was from an LCD screen. At 72.9 degrees, I was happily cool, but my intuition told me there had to be someplace cooler than the library.

The only books you'll ever need

Yes, Apple's "the only books you'll need" campaign is pretty dumb. But I beg you, fellow library bloggers, quote the slogan correctly. There's no need to hyper-hyperbolize.