The public library, like this newspaper, is supposed to be doomed by the information revolution.
Who needs an encyclopedia when you have Google?
Who needs a library when you have a computer in your lap more powerful than the one that sent man to the moon?
Who needs a librarian when you have a smart phone beyond even what Star Trek’s writers imagined just a few years ago?
Yet, when you mosey on down to any of the outlets of the Greater Victoria Public Library – from the Oak Bay branch, which incorporates a heritage house, to the sprawling Central Library, where the homeless share computer terminals alongside businessmen and retirees – you will be pressed to find an unoccupied chair.
The public library is booming.
Last year, library materials in the Victoria system were borrowed or renewed 5,978,750 times, a record circulation.
At the Central, where the public area takes up two floors of an unappealing government office complex, the bustle is notable all through the day. Much of the library, though hushed, is no longer quiet space. Patrons talk about books and movies, asides are shared by surfers at computer terminals, teenagers multitask while ostensibly completing homework.
This is what librarians think of as the Third Space – not work, not home, but just as essential a part of the daily routine.
The patrons who attend a bricks-and-mortar branch are only the top of the iceberg, as other users are at home and the office, accessing online databases.
Not so long ago, readers seeking a science-fiction story by Isaac Asimov needed to come to the library, where they found a large piece of wooden furniture holding sliding drawers. Thousands of 3-by-5-inch cards, arranged alphabetically, held typewritten – or, if old enough, handwritten – details, including author, title and the call number devised according to Melvil Dewey’s eponymous decimal classification system. Having found the number and either memorizing it, or writing it on another piece of paper, they then had to wander through the stacks to find their prize.
Today, a holder of a library card searches the catalogue, renews titles, or places a hold by consulting the MoCat mobile catalogue through one’s mobile device. You can download an audio-book. You can pay fines online. Even had Mr. Asimov imagined such a world, it would have seemed too far out to be believable. The wooden-card catalogue is now a museum piece, a collectable used by some to hold candy, or fishing lures, or other small miscellanea.
It is a great age to live in a democratic society where little stands in the way of the free flow of misinformation. Enter the trained, practical, curious, intelligent, organized librarian.
“We help people navigate the sea of information,” said Matthew Bingham, librarian supervisor at Victoria’s Central branch.
“There is so much information out there, but how much of it is good information? The library can help people filter the good from the bad.”
The library holds computer classes (with such topics as “introduction to e-mail” and “evaluating web sources”). One librarian teaches a course about online investment sites.
In the new year, the library will begin lending Kobo eReaders as part of its Library to Go downloadable audio and e-book service. No late fees! When the due date arrives, the e-book vanishes.
As for reference requests, the number of telephone calls is in decline. Patrons want virtual reference. A program called Ask Now is to be launched soon, offering answers to chat questions in real time. (Gosh, the e-mailed Ask a Librarian service is already feeling like so yesterday.)
Librarians are a passionate – though not always demonstrative – bunch. They are ardent defenders of freedom of information.
Mr. Bingham, 31, got his first library job as a page at age 16, a position he held for eight years. “A page is the glue that holds this place together,” he said. “They shelve the books, they check the books in, they do a lot of odd jobs.”
