Cull our library? Not on your nelly
THE National Library is running out of storage space and dumping more than 600,000 ‘‘foreign’’ books to make room for the 80,000 New Zealand books published each year. Naturally, the literary community is appalled. Norris Pennefeather, author of Ravished in the Raupo, the awardwinning novel about a love affair between an officer of the 65th Regiment of Foot and a Maori warrior, is among those condemning what he calls the library’s ‘‘cultural vandalism’’.
‘‘My research for Ravished in the Raupo relied heavily on a cluster of American novels set in the Wild West. Those novels are held by no other library in New Zealand. It’s outrageous! My next novel will be about poverty in New Zealand in the Great Depression and I need access to several South African novels of the 1930s to get the information I need.’’
The library has brushed aside his concerns, pointing out that its job is to preserve New Zealand works, even rubbishy stuff, which no other library in the world would bother with. My own books are held there.
The consequences of the National Library’s policy hit home last Thursday when I was summoned to an emergency meeting at the Patearoa Public Library, a literary stronghold now celebrating its 125th year, having bought its first books in 1895. (The National Library in its present form was founded in 1965).
As the under assistant librarian at Patearoa I felt I should join the group at the meeting which included the Patearoa Chief Librarian and Ms Sylvia Mansworth, the National Library Collections Adviser (Small Libraries). A stray dog that hangs around the library most days also turned up.
Ms Mansworth, having noted sniffily that we had very few books on Maori, Pacific Islanders and gender dysphoria, asked for a report on our building and storage space. She was told that the library is a 20 x 12 x 8ft corrugated iron building with one casement window and one door and was built in the 1920s for £50 ($5000 these days).
‘‘My word, you’ve got it easy. It’s just recently we spent $65 million on tarting up our building in Wellington. Perhaps we should have included a bit more storage space. How’s your storage?’’
The Chief Librarian simply gestured and said, ‘‘Look about you.’’
Sure enough, every inch of shelf space at the Patearoa Library is occupied by books.
‘‘You need a cull! And urgently.’’
We explained that all our books these days were donations and that a culling policy was already operating.
All Reader’s Digest condensed books, Mills and Boon novels and 27 copies of Fifty Shades of Grey had already been dumped. All duplicates had been donated to the annual Crockery Bob Sale and a keen collector had bought our 700 copies of the National Geographic magazine.
Ms Mansworth looked impressed but added, ‘‘I see you have two full shelves of Agatha Christie. She’s old and foreign, you know.’’
‘‘Yes, but people read her,’’ replied our Chief Librarian.
‘‘That’s no way to run a library. If you stock only what people read, this tin shed of yours would be crammed with those awful paperbacks you see at airport bookstalls.’’
We carefully avoided pointing out that, as a library of donated books, we are chockablock with Jeffrey Archer, Dan Brown, Lee Child, Suzanne Collins and their like. Patearoa people, it seems, do a lot of flying but when they get home they realise they’re stuck with books they would never read in normal circumstances.
‘‘You need more room, obviously. Is there another building you could use?’’
‘‘There’s a woolshed in the next paddock, but that may not be ideal,’’ our Chief Librarian replied, conscious of the airconditioned, humiditycontrolled atmosphere recommended by the National Library.
‘‘Then, the only answer is to do as we do, and have a massive cull. The first step is to define your purpose.’’
‘‘Well, we supply books to the locals to read.’’
‘‘Not good enough. You should be serving a niche, and my suggestion is that you focus on being a repository just for books about Patearoa. Just as the National Library sees itself as a safe home for New Zealand books only. How many books are there about Patearoa?’’
‘‘Well, Jim here, has knocked off half a dozen. There’s another half dozen local history books and a couple about the nearby sheep stations.’’
‘‘Don’t forget that history of the rugby club,’’ I chipped in.
‘‘Perfect,’’ trilled Ms Mansworth. ‘‘Maybe 20 books in all. You could house them all on one shelf and biff out everything else you have cluttering this place up. You’d then have tonnes of room for any future books about Patearoa.’’
We thanked Ms Mansworth and waved her goodbye.
‘‘When do we start the big cull?’’ I asked the Chief Librarian.
‘‘Never!’’ she retorted as she reached for an Agatha Christie she hadn’t read yet.
❛ That’s no way to run a library. If you stock only what people read, this tin shed of yours would be crammed with those awful paperbacks you see at airport bookstalls.