Future Library (Margaret Atwood, Denizen #1)

A library is growing in Norway.

The Future Library is a time-capsule project, of sorts. A thousand trees were planted in a Norwegian forest this summer, to be harvested in a century's time. Every year until the day of the reaping, a different author will be invited to contribute a story to this library. The catch? The story will remain unread until these trees are made into the paper on which these works will be printed. The writers who contribute towards the beginning of the century won't likely live to see their books published. And that's sort of the point. In a hundred years, none of the originators of the project will be around to see its completion.

It'll be interesting to see what authors end up participating. It takes a certain sort of writer to produce a work that will likely be published posthumously, and to be happy with having completed it, without any notion of where it might stand in public opinion or among literary critics. It's fitting that the first contributor to the Future Library is Margaret Atwood; a science fiction writer is likely to agree with the notion of art as time capsule for future generations.

http://www.theguardian.com/books/2014/sep/05/margaret-atwood-new-work-unseen-century-future-library

Her story about the "lost" Haida manuscript in the above Guardian article is particularly apt. Who knows how language might change in a century? We certainly think differently than our ancestors did in the early 1900s. We find references to iceboxes and horse-drawn carriages archaic, for example, and there are many words that have disappeared from common usage in the past hundred years. It begs the question of whether authors who are consciously writing for the future, without the preconditions of a contemporary readership, would choose to write differently. To what extent, after all, does art demand and audience?

I am reminded (as I often am) of the Percy Shelley poem "Ozymandias," as well as of Faulkner's Nobel acceptance speech. The Future Library seems simultaneously an endeavour without ego and perhaps the greatest projection of self-preservation instinct an author can have.

I suppose we'll have to wait and see.

Carl Sagan Day

Happy Carl Sagan Day!

Carl Sagan was one of the first and most well-known American populist scientists. That is, he championed the worthy cause of bringing science (especially astronomy) to the non-scientist public. (For comparison's sake, he was a contemporary of Freeman Dyson, another such luminary, and the forefather of scientists like Brian Greene and Neil deGrasse Tyson.) Sagan is perhaps best known for his novel Contact, subsequently made into an eponymous film, and for the television series Cosmos. It's fitting that he should have his own day of celebration (he would have been 79 today), wherein people contemplate the great beyond.

In addition to popularizing science, Sagan was also one of the great advocates for SETI in his day, as well as a proponent of nuclear disarmament. He was, as were many great scientists, a profound humanist. He was the originator of the saying "We are all stardust," one of my all-time favorites. (If I were ever to get a quotation tattooed somewhere on my body, this would be a top contender. It helps that it's short.) In another life, I might have gone into astrophysics -- largely because I grew up reading books by people like him.

Addendum: the Library of Congress recently acquired Carl Sagan's papers, which include his reading lists. This is facinating stuff!

Boston

I went to Boston this weekend to visit one of my oldest friends (we've known each other for most of our lives). It was wonderful to experience a different city with someone who knows the lay of the land. Here are some highlights of the weekend...

My trip apparently coincided with a major sporting event, so there were people wearing Boston gear all over the city. Someone decided to clothe the Public Garden's decorative brass ducks:

And this is what looks like a ballroom in the main branch of the Boston Public Library:

It's a stunning space, with wood panelling and frescoes running the entire length of the walls. I could imagine a medieval ball being held here.

This library could give the New York Public Library at Bryant Park a run for its money. It has an interior courtyard that looks like it was airlifted from Renaissance Europe:

I'm reminded of the courtyard of the Frick Museum. I could imagine Juliet leaning on the rail of the balcony on the left, beckoning to Romeo in the garden below. I've never been to Verona, but in my mind, it looks something like this.

Boston is also home to the world's only Curious George store! I didn't know this a few days ago.

This was taken on a bridge over a particularly scenic stretch of the Charles River:

I believe it was the Longfellow Bridge, which was named for the poet Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. He was one of the preeminent poets of his day; one of his most famous works, "Paul Revere's Ride," is a classic in the American canon. There is a plaque in his honor, and the poem is engraved on a stretch of the footpath on the bridge. I didn't think to get a photo of it at the time; I was too busy walking backwards reading the poem!

And that was Boston. It's such a quaint place (cobblestone streets! trolleys!) with so much history tucked into the fabric of the city.

Knights vs. Snail in Medieval England

A whimsical curiosity from the British Library's medieval manuscripts blog (the librarians post some fascinating stuff -- the rest of the blog is definitely worth a peek too):

http://britishlibrary.typepad.co.uk/digitisedmanuscripts/2013/09/knight-v-snail.html

The motif of knights fighting giant snails is apparently quite common in medieval illuminated manuscripts, though nobody knows why, or what it was supposed to have signified. (There's even snail jousting! And monkeys!) Was it all just marginalia? Bored monks -- who were only human, after all -- having a bit of fun with their transcription? Did snails moonlight as agents of Satan when not making nuisances of themselves in the monastery vegetable patches? Even among the eminent scholars at the British Library, nobody knows.

While the world of medieval archivists puzzles over this mystery, the rest of us get some Easter eggs in our manuscripts. Happy Monday, everyone!

New York at Dusk

There are times when I walk alone in the streets of New York, when I'm surrounded by looming glass behemoths against the deep blue dusk, when the air is crisp and a fine mist of rain coats the pavement, when the hum of human activity permeates the corners of the city -- times when I'm happy to be alive and grateful to live in such a magnificent, vibrant place. There's nowhere quite like New York.

I took this picture near Rockefeller Center a few weeks ago (the lights of Radio City Music Hall are visible in the lower left). Something about the lone building lit up against a swathe of clouds reminds me of Egypt, of obelisks and monuments erected by long-dead Pharaohs.

This photograph was taken from the High Line. The red-and-white illuminated building in the center is the Empire State Building (I love the way the spire disappears into the clouds). The polyhedral glass rooftop structure, I discovered, contains what appears to be a small library, replete with armchairs, lamps, and a few shelves of books. (That has to be one of the coolest library designs I've seen!)

I took this picture a month or two ago at the piers on the West Side. (The "BEA on a Boat" party happened on that boat, actually.) I was struck by the "halo effect" of the setting sun behind the mast; the boat and the play of light on the water reminds me of the elven ships sailing into the west in The Lord of the Rings.

There's something melancholy and fiercely beautiful about this city when you're alone, spending some quality time with it, just drinking it in.

What Would You Do with a Time Machine?

I've been asked the above question quite a few times (I think it happens to history majors fairly frequently), and my answer tends to vary depending on the classes I happen(ed) to be taking, the books in my bag, the day of the week, &c. By now, I do have a list of responses that I cycle through and explain in depth at parties (which, for me, are of the variety that includes social dancing, board games, home cooking, or karaoke).

This is an answer I've given before, because I think it's one of the great tragedies of the classical world:

I imagine the "Dark Ages" would have turned out quite differently had the libraries of Egypt, Rome, and all the other great ancient cities not burned. So much knowledge -- especially in the sciences -- was lost, setting human progress in the West back several centuries. If I had a time machine... I would definitely go back to save the second volume of Aristotle's Poetics, and Aristarchus's text on astronomy, and Ovid's Medea, and Euripides's lost plays...

In short, I would be both the best and worst Doctor's Companion ever.

io9: Race Relations in the Space Age

An adorable, moving video about breaking all sorts of glass ceilings in pursuit of one's dreams (also, Star Trek pioneering integration FTW):

http://io9.com/5981089/a-sweet-animated-tale-of-challenger-astronaut-ronald-mcnairs-early-experience-standing-up-to-racism

Ronald McNair. I didn't know who he was until I saw this, but I'm glad I found it. I'll admit to tearing up a little at the end. (Challenger, why?) He's one of the many unsung heroes of science -- much as the Catholic Church has a body of saints, I propose that science establish its own roster of martyrs for the cause. McNair would be up there with Galileo and Marie Curie.

NYTimes: The Dutch Pioneer an Airport Library

One of the very sad trends of today is that fewer people seem to be reading, what with all the other forms of entertainment readily available. Some of the recent e-book innovations (like the Kindle) and blockbuster franchises (like Harry Potter) have helped, but overall, libraries are noting a downturn in patronage and bookstores a decrease in sales. We have to come up with new ways to get people to read, much as many other aspects of life have evolved. One previously underexploited population is the commuter -- not the daily commuter who spends half-an-hour on the train, but the distance commuter who often has plenty of time to kill in the airport. Enter the airport library:

http://www.nytimes.com/2010/09/16/arts/16iht-library.html?ref=global-home

It's a really good idea, methinks. Of course, we shall have to see whether the net loss of books becomes a problem. Two things to consider:

1. A lending library system with locations at many major international airports. People going on longer journeys may forget about a book entirely during their trip, and probably wouldn't remember to return it at their airport of departure when they finally made it back there. But most people, I think, can finish a paperback of reasonable length during an international flight, and it would be much more convenient if they could drop off the book at a different branch when they get off the plane, rather than bring it with them on their return trip.

2. A system for e-book lending. A lot of people have e-book readers nowadays, and a lot of people bring their readers when they travel, because it's easier than carting around a stack of books in their luggage. Such systems already exist in many library systems; it shouldn't be too hard to adapt that technology to an airport library. I can imagine some system of lending periods corresponding to the duration of flights or trips.

I think this is an excellent concept, and I can't wait to see a library in JFK or SFO one of these days!

MSNBC: Cops Bust Woman for Pouring Mayonnaise in Book Drop

Hurting books -- things like cracking spines and dog-earring pages -- makes me cry a little inside. (Gosh, I sound like a librarian.) But this, this is a new low:

http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/37693202/ns/us_news/?GT1=43001

This woman sounds like she ought to be institutionalized. I can see drunk college kids doing something like this, but she's a senior citizen! Are they sure she doesn't have dementia or something?

Petition to Save New York Public Libraries

Note (05/28): Because this is an actionable item, I'm keeping it at the top of the blog for the next week or two.

Edit (06/01): Quit Facebook Day having ended, this post returns to the top for a few more days.

Edit (06/03): My sincere thanks to anyone who petitioned, for your support for literacy in New York.

New York City is facing (more) budget cuts. The city government is considering cutting funding for the public library system. Considering the state of education in New York (and in the country at large), squeezing public libraries is not the best way to save money -- the societal cost is just too great.

Please sign this e-petition to reject budget cuts for, and closure of, public libraries in New York (even if you're not a New Yorker):

http://dontclosethebook.nypl.org/action?hpfeature=1

Spread the word.

This means a lot to me, personally, as well. I'm a lifelong, incurable bibliophile, and I would hate to see libraries close in my home city. My thanks to my dear friend Weily for bringing this to my attention, and also to everyone who petitions.

NYTimes: The Morgan Museum Gets a Makeover

When people think of museums in New York, they can typically name only a few of the biggest and most famous: The Metropolitan Museum of Art (locals and connoisseurs call it, with affection, "The Met"), the American Museum of Natural History, and the Museum of Modern Art (the MOMA). The City [sic] is particularly rich in museums of all shapes and sizes, from the Frick Collection (a personal favorite) to the kid-friendly Sony Wonder. I have been to the Morgan Library and Museum quite a few times (they had an excellent exhibition of medieval illuminations this past summer), and I'm very glad they're doing some restoration on the place -- hopefully it will attract more visitors post-operation!

http://www.nytimes.com/2010/05/12/arts/design/12morgan.html

I'm glad they're not making huge changes to the rotunda; the mosaics are wonderful, and I'd be sad to see them go.