Charleston Post and Courier
Reviewed June 21, 2008 by Summer Mauldin
The field of librarianship is perhaps one of the most stereotyped job positions, mainly because at some point in recent history the cliches were all true.
Scott Douglas, author of "Quiet, Please," represents the burgeoning sect of hipster librarians who are shattering the bun-wearing shushers of the past.
Douglas' memoir chronicles his five years in the Anaheim (Calif.) Public Library system, starting as a library page (the lowest niche on the intricately carved library totem pole) to earning his Library Science degree (which is still low on the pole). Through a host of oddball characters and situations, Douglas shows how public libraries are thriving amid the current technological boom. They are places rife with tragic-comic tales, where no amount of academic degrees or distance on an organization chart keeps one from the gritty business of public service.
Though Douglas' book offers some humorous moments between co-workers and patrons, it lacks a unified message. More problematic is its copious footnotes and lengthy asides that grow tiresome. The book might be a useful tool for those considering a library career, but for others, it may prove too tedious and unremarkable to pursue. It does show the library is more than a storehouse for books; it is a stage where a cast of characters roams.
The field of librarianship is perhaps one of the most stereotyped job positions, mainly because at some point in recent history the cliches were all true.
Scott Douglas, author of "Quiet, Please," represents the burgeoning sect of hipster librarians who are shattering the bun-wearing shushers of the past.
Douglas' memoir chronicles his five years in the Anaheim (Calif.) Public Library system, starting as a library page (the lowest niche on the intricately carved library totem pole) to earning his Library Science degree (which is still low on the pole). Through a host of oddball characters and situations, Douglas shows how public libraries are thriving amid the current technological boom. They are places rife with tragic-comic tales, where no amount of academic degrees or distance on an organization chart keeps one from the gritty business of public service.
Though Douglas' book offers some humorous moments between co-workers and patrons, it lacks a unified message. More problematic is its copious footnotes and lengthy asides that grow tiresome. The book might be a useful tool for those considering a library career, but for others, it may prove too tedious and unremarkable to pursue. It does show the library is more than a storehouse for books; it is a stage where a cast of characters roams.
