Recently an Annual Report came my way from the library I regularly support – I went to school and worked there while in school, so I still donate fairly regularly. One statement therein caught my eye – “As libraries change, so does our definition of collections.” And of course, I began to think.
Every so often during the last ten to fifteen years, and then at least once a month the last two years or so before I retired, people would ask me ’How has your job changed?” Or more pointedly, they would ask it camouflaged as a statement – “My, I bet your job has really changed what with all the new technology and stuff!” By “stuff” I think they meant all the library resources not in the form of books.
My usual response (even now that I am out) is “While I have seen major changes in technology and the concomitant changes in formats of the resources we supply to library users, my job of helping them find what they need has not changed – the number of ways I can do so has increased (somewhat to the good).” Having a sense that the primary purpose of the library is to provide various collections of material so that all users have an opportunity to explore whatever their hearts desire, the changes that I have seen in the past 35-plus years merely mean that I had to add more ways of answering users’ questions.
One of my challenges in MFPOW was the demand to change out old materials and replace with new – assumedly because the public only wants what is new, or only the new is correct. Previous experiences with doctors, academicians, and food researchers indicated to me that while the public may only want what is the newest published thing often the only available and correct information was that in an older publication. Too often, it was that publication that I had weeded last week, month, or year.
I was reminded of this when reading Wendell Berry’s Life Is a Miracle, especially the essay about Edward O. Wilson’s Consiliance. Starting on page 67, Berry writes, about Wilson,
“[H]e is in agreement with the apparent majority of the public who now believe the new inevitably replaces or invalidates the old, because the new, coming from an ever-growing fund of data, is inevitably better than the old. The rails of the future have been laid by genetic (or technological or economic) determination, and as we move forward we destroy justly and properly the rails of the past. This is strong, easeful, and reassuring doctrine, so long as one does not count its costs or number its losses.”
How well that describes my experience. Indeed, having been brought into librarianship believing that the library maintains collections not only of the new and entertaining but also of the nation’s culture, I chafed every time I confronted the attitude that the new replaces the old. The result has been a major loss of resources in select libraries who have followed this dictum. (Perhaps this was the change in the profession to which I refused to adapt.)
One milestone in the U.S. public library world that adapted this dictum full hog was the revamping of the collection policies of the Baltimore (MD) County Public Library by their then Director Charles Robinson. His idea was to put only that which was demanded by the user onto the shelves and to withdraw all the rest. He especially advocated the use of “best seller” lists in order to do so. (I wonder what their collection looks like now?)
It used to be said – see for example comments often made by Ray Bradbury on where he got his education – that especially the public library was an important factor in an author’s education and development. Now, after a very basic shift in the philosophy of collection development over the past ten to twenty years, the library may lose that very special status.
We shall see.