This Post is Overdue

A long time ago I received an email from a woman named Marilyn Johnson, who identified herself as an author writing a book about librarians in the cyberage. We began an email conversation that has budded into a respect and friendship, and it all stemmed from her curiosity about my defunct blog about Happyville Library. We discussed many topics, like prudish views and censorship of librarians by themselves, though they are the very people who are supposed to champion free speech. When not sharing experiences on the heavy topics, there was always the never-ending supply of stories about poop. Libraries provide us with the fodder that fill blogs for years, and shock outsiders about what really goes on. Marilyn was no less shocked than any of the rest of us were the first time we found a rogue turd in the library.

As she worked on her book, her deadline fast approaching, I awaited its publication with silly eagerness, anxious to read about what she uncovered during the rest of her research and what a whack profession she would reveal this field to be.

First, she sent me a copy of the galleys (which I learned was the manuscript), and when it was published, I got a copy of the book, This Book is Overdue.


Much to my astonishment and delight, she had much more to say about the profession than I expected. I read every page, devoured it completely, and felt like I understood the job I do a little bit better because I was looking at it from a perspective that I had not entertained in decades: as an outsider. This book was written with a loving touch, a kind of objective reverence, one that made me feel proud of what I do not because I think we're going to save the world, but because we collect, share and preserve civilization, whatever that entails at this point in society. It wasn't all librarian martyrdom, either. Let's get down to business with the nightmare that is a Sirsi upgrade (deep breaths!) and how it pits IT library staff against all others, or the silliness that is the book-cart drill-teams. She covered it all, from many sides, dark and light, all respectful and diligent in upholding the library ideal, and yet still devoting a section of a chapter to my own trials and tribulations, which she dubbed "The Real Poop".

Barring the fact that I have been immortalized in book format for my battles within the library and without, for being the finder of poop, and a blogger who writes because I can't stop myself, I was deeply proud to be mentioned in this book. It's a gem and it will always have a place on my shelf. Not many would think to document the meaning of being part of a library in this day and age, and I'm sure even fewer would imagine this book is worthy of reading, but truly, if you work in a library, if you frequent libraries, or if you're just curious about librarians, this is a book to read. It will shed light on things you had forgotten about, didn't know occurred, or just flat out took for granted. And maybe, like me, you'll put it down and feel a little bit better about your library.