The Library Book

The Library Book by Susan Orleans

This is ostensibly the story of the 1986 fire that ripped through Los Angeles' Central Library, but is really about much more. The book's 30 chapters alternate between three different perspectives. In one, Orleans tells the history of libraries in Los Angeles, helping to explain how the Central Library came to be built in the 1920s and its near-demolition in the 1970s and 1980s after years of neglect. Another focuses on the fire itself and the search for the person who set it, which investigators finally believed to be Harry Peak. Finally, Orleans sprinkles in short vignettes about the librarians who work at the library.

The history of Central Library was more fascinating that I thought it would be. One forgets how recently Los Angeles sprung out of the desert. A library -- not a standalone building -- was first opened in the place in the late 1800s. I was surprised by how progressive its head librarians were from the get-go. They seemed on a mission to reach out to the community from the very first, hellbent on upending any elitist pretensions people might have about who should have access to information. There were several characters as well, chief among them Charles Lummis, who appeared in Los Angeles in the 1880s to take a job at the LA Times. When he was hired, he was working in Ohio. Rather than take a train to LA, he decided to walk, capitalizing on the choice by writing a weekly column on his adventures that made him famous even before he arrived in his new town. His notoriety, and his sex, earned him the job as LA's librarian when the board decided to let go of the highly competent individual in the position because she was a she. That she, Mary Jones, did not go away quietly, instead fighting what became known as the Library Wars for her position. She lost. Lummis was fired, lasted a few good years and then was himself let go.

The story of the fire was also more interesting than I might have suspected, particularly in light of new approaches to arson investigations. Apparently, it used to be, and still is in some places, best practice to call something arson if no obvious other cause could be found. That is, if it could not be definitively proven that a fire was started by wiring or a faulty appliance or some such thing, it was declared arson. Unfortunately, investigators were often relying upon faulty assumptions when looking for the origin of a fire and so often overlooked the real cause of a fire. For instance, it used to be assumed that a fire burned the hottest at its origin. But that is apparently proven not to be the case. So now there is a national movement to free people wrongly convicted of arson. One man was in prison for the murder of his daughter for a fire he never set. This has impacted thousands of people. I had no idea!

There is a reason, though, that the book is not titled The Los Angeles Library Book, for all of these perspectives are really a chance for Orleans to explore the role that libraries have and will continue to play in our lives. Often thought of as mere lenders of books, libraries, particularly those in big cities, are in fact much more than that. Orleans focuses heavily on the role that libraries play for disadvantaged populations, particularly the homeless, for whom Central Library and thousands like it are a haven, a source of entertainment, and, in some cases, a way to connect to vital social services. In the end, I think it is this connection that Orleans argues that libraries, and the books within them, provide. They connect people to each other, to writers, to information and ideas, and, in the case of Central Library, to art. As Orleans closes, "Even the oddest, most particular book was written with that kind of crazy courage -- the writer's belief that someone would find his or her book important to read. I was struck by how precious and foolish and brave that belief is, and how necessary, and how full of hope it is to collect these books and manuscripts and preserve them. It declares that all these stories matter, and so does every effort to create something that connects us to one another, and to our past and to what is to come."

Neverwhere

Neverwhere by Neil Gaiman

In this book, Gaiman brings to life a world "underneath" the world we walk around in every day. Londoner Richard Mayhew encounters London Below one day on his way to dinner with his fiance, Jessica. They come to a girl who is clearly in distress and, over Jessica's objections, Richard brings her back to his apartment to help her recuperate. Little does Richard know that the girl, Door, is from London Below and that his contact with her banishes him from London Above -- that "normal" London he is used to -- and send him to London Below, which Gaiman explains is made up of souls who "fell through the cracks". Once there, Richard manages to find and join Door, who is on a quest to avenge the murder of her prominent family, all the while trying to go back to his old life. Along the way, he encounters all sorts of strange creatures and, of course, learns much about himself.

Gaiman clearly had fun creating London Below and imagining a world turn on its head. That makes it fun for the reader. And even if the plot is a little predictable, Gaiman nevertheless does a great job of keeping us wanting more. It's a world and a story to get lost in, and sometimes that's exactly what you want from a book. And there is something of a message: It seems to be that there is much fun and adventure to be had outside of the type of robotic life that Richard has at the beginning of the book. Our failure to find them might just be a failure of imagination.

Cold Mountain

 

Cold Mountain by Charles Frazer

Set in the waning days of the Civil War, this story is told from two, alternating perspectives. Inman is a Confederate soldier who, after suffering a wound at Petersburg and witnessing the horrors of war for nearly four years, decides to leave his hospital bed and journey home before he can be sent back to the front. He is driven by the hopes of reuniting with the other character, Ada, with whom he sparked a brief relationship before heading off to war. Despite leaving the fighting of the war, Inman's journey is nevertheless full of danger and violence. Instead of dodging bullets from Union guns, he now has to avoid the Home Guard, a group of wealthy planters and other men somehow exempt from military service who have made it their mission to capture -- and kill -- any and all deserters from the army who cross their path. Meanwhile, Ada has tribulations of her own. Her father recently died, leaving her penniless and with a mountain farm that she has no idea how to manage. Enter Ruby, who is as savvy and underprivileged as Ada is clueless and (formerly) rich. Together, they begin to put the farm to work and make plans to survive the coming winter.

I originally picked this book up because I'd heard of the movie version and because it bore a National Book Award medallion on its cover. Generally, the award is a sign of a great book. I'm not sure this was that. It was certainly engaging and drew me in, but, as many other critics have pointed out, the pace of the story is s-l-o-o-o-w. The book probably could have been a hundred pages or more shorter. And, oddly, the climax of the book, which comes very near the end, receives very little ink. It was odd that the moment the entire story built to passed so quickly. It made the ending seem abrupt, as if it were an afterthought. That said, I always find this period of history to be intriguing, and this one taught me something. I hadn't realized the extent of the terror of the Home Guard, which seemed in many ways like a prototypical KKK. If you're in the mood to return to the 19th century, this book will bring you there. But you could easily skip it and not miss much.