I think it only applies to the lower, i.e., non-librarian, orders. E.g., students, academics, vice-chancellors, royalty, etc. Librarians do not worship anyone! (Apart from the deity of their choice of course, should they be so inclined).
I worship you and am instructing Kiko to do so too. The library is his favourite place to go ever. Anyone would think it was Alton Towers. Another one for the fold!
I have always worshipped librarians, and libraries. In all my life of peripatetic employment, the times when I was a lowly clerk in a library were my favorite ones. To work surrounded by books, what heaven. The “fly in the ointment” was all those ridiculous people who wanted to USE the books.
I’m establishing an altar to librarians forthwith, just as soon as I finish this massage. Stupid customers. Show up here with an appointment and expect me to give them a massage. Honestly.
Oh, Archie, don’t. Dead books *shudder*. The response of this particular librarian would be to lose her temper in a highly humourless fashion. I am the book doctor at work, and occasionally there is a book that all the japanese paper and starch paste and bristol board in the world will not resuscitate. And I always feel a little solemn and weepy when processing the remains down to the recycling bin (and ragingly cross with the evil spawn of Satan who used sellotape on it, or who tore the index out, or who poured coffee on it and then let it dry pressed under a weight to ‘stop the pages buckling’, thereby fusing it into a solid brown papier-mache block).
Unless you meant the writing, of course. In which case I’d be happy to let a queue build up while holding a post-mortem on the writer’s artistic soul…
I agree, there is nothing worse for the soul than a book which has been abused to death. I am not in favour of capital punishment but in this case I am prepared to make exceptions.
I was thinking of books which do nothing except sit there with words on their pages. Words which do nothing for the reader. Words which were not taught to sing by the author. Words which run together in a meaningless blur.
Respect, Reed. Deep and abiding.
But I’ve always worshipped you, darling.
Aphra
*on her knees, as instructed*
Should be be worshipping each other?
David
I think it only applies to the lower, i.e., non-librarian, orders. E.g., students, academics, vice-chancellors, royalty, etc. Librarians do not worship anyone! (Apart from the deity of their choice of course, should they be so inclined).
I worship you and am instructing Kiko to do so too. The library is his favourite place to go ever. Anyone would think it was Alton Towers. Another one for the fold!
I have always worshipped librarians, and libraries. In all my life of peripatetic employment, the times when I was a lowly clerk in a library were my favorite ones. To work surrounded by books, what heaven. The “fly in the ointment” was all those ridiculous people who wanted to USE the books.
I’m establishing an altar to librarians forthwith, just as soon as I finish this massage. Stupid customers. Show up here with an appointment and expect me to give them a massage. Honestly.
I have often wondered what would be the response if I returned a book (a la the dead parrot sketch) and complained that it was dead!
“This book is deceased!”
Oh, Archie, don’t. Dead books *shudder*. The response of this particular librarian would be to lose her temper in a highly humourless fashion. I am the book doctor at work, and occasionally there is a book that all the japanese paper and starch paste and bristol board in the world will not resuscitate. And I always feel a little solemn and weepy when processing the remains down to the recycling bin (and ragingly cross with the evil spawn of Satan who used sellotape on it, or who tore the index out, or who poured coffee on it and then let it dry pressed under a weight to ‘stop the pages buckling’, thereby fusing it into a solid brown papier-mache block).
Unless you meant the writing, of course. In which case I’d be happy to let a queue build up while holding a post-mortem on the writer’s artistic soul…
I agree, there is nothing worse for the soul than a book which has been abused to death. I am not in favour of capital punishment but in this case I am prepared to make exceptions.
I was thinking of books which do nothing except sit there with words on their pages. Words which do nothing for the reader. Words which were not taught to sing by the author. Words which run together in a meaningless blur.
Oh. Your Librarianship, THIS book is DEAD!