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PrintA look at Columbus's libraries: Where art and entertainment collide
Where I grew up, in New York City, libraries were temples of knowledge and sanctuaries for seeking the obscure and the famous. To browse the stacks could become an object lesson in awe and an immersion in the history of consciousness. For a great library presented an unparalleled panorama of human activity. It also represented the transcendent paths we all have to follow in life. Beyond that, some libraries embraced social justice, gave credence to the civil rights movement and curated exhibits affiliated with progressive causes.
Crucially, great libraries retained books, magazines and films that rarely got checked out. In fact, the shelves were thick with oddities, awaiting that one person—perhaps a starry-eyed teen or a retired engineer—who wanted to read everything about Buddhism, fly fishing, Latin American history, arachnids, sailing, vigilantism, haiku, heroism or ancient Greece.
When I moved here seven years ago from Pasadena, California, I quickly heard about the vaunted Columbus Metropolitan Library. Immediately and eagerly, I looked for evidence that would support its much ballyhooed awards as one of the best public library systems in the country—as well as its stellar suburban counterparts. I found quick proof in the vibrant libraries in Old Worthington, Upper Arlington and downtown.
The only true model by which to assess a library is the depth of its collection, the knowledge and insightfulness of its librarians and its ability to serve the community. Judged by these standards, Columbus libraries are doing well. On my visits to various branches I saw people huddled over terminals looking for jobs, studying English or writing a term paper. I noticed folks reading thick novels, browsing through domestic and foreign films and studying musical offerings. A recent levy has restored hours to the libraries, and the funds are subsidizing improvements to the collections. Meanwhile, the library has aggressively moved to embrace e-books and downloads.
But, alas, there are problems brewing.
In Columbus, as elsewhere, the notion of the library as entertainment center has taken hold. Well, you may say, many books are entertainments. Ditto for movies and CDs. What’s wrong with that? Nothing—so far as it goes. But let me attempt to explain the heart of entertainment. As a vast array of diversions and amusements, from glitzy thrillers to video games, entertainment only occasionally intersects the realm of art. And when it does—think J.K. Rowling’s Harry Potter series—our brain buds open with joy and wonder.
Art, however, takes us into the realm of fate, the invisible thread that’s woven through the world and time. It speaks to why we are here and where we are going. Entertainment, by contrast, doesn’t explain the first thing about destiny or the sorrow some of us feel, much less the luminous mystery of love. Entertainment all too often is merely the product of market research and dubious storytelling. It’s there for titillating our egos and creating a wall of fear and even envy. It’s aimed at repetition of patterns and the thinking of its creators is notoriously lazy.
So is this something a library should strive for?
Put another way, is it right to have the stacks sagging with zillions of copies of Twilight, the vampire series for teens, or the latest potboiler by James Patterson—and not have all the works by comparative religion scholar Mircea Eliade or all the films by Swedish director Ingmar Bergman?
“We try to balance things, but we’re different from a research library. The public library is a people’s university for personal research, self-improvement, how to and entertainment,” says Robin Nesbitt, technical services director for the Columbus Metropolitan Library. “We buy literary and intellectual books, but we’re not beholden to keeping them if they’re not circulating.”
But I can see a day where the retention of books becomes an ironclad rule—simply to make way for the reams of fodder that make up the bestseller lists. The stacks only have so much room, and something has to give way.
I would argue that the shelves of a great library should bristle with one-of-a-kind small press books that are hard to find at Barnes & Noble. The library should offer visitors diverse choices that open like origami folds. Each book is a discovery, each reading an act of revelation or even revolution.
The next time you visit one of the trinity of great Columbus libraries, don’t go with a purpose. Instead, let yourself get lost in the stacks. As the poet William Blake said, “Improvement makes strait roads, but the crooked roads without Improvement, are roads of Genius.”
