Sunday, October 15, 2017

We need strong libraries

I attended two documentary films last weekend. Yes, my week was so busy I couldn’t post before today.

The first was Ex Libris: New York Public Library. The goal of the film was to document the wide variety of things the NYPL system (and by extension, libraries across the country) do for their patrons. We see programs of various kinds – author lectures, discussions, concerts, dinners, book clubs, and such. We see library staff engaging kids after school. We see job training and job fairs. We’re in on staff meetings and board meetings for discussions on finance and staffing. We visit the branches, ones in poor neighborhoods, the one in Chinatown, the one devoted to braille and talking books (we even sit in on a session as a talking book is recorded). We meet the staff member who signs for deaf patrons. We see some of the special collections, such as for images and for race relations. The NYPL is a large system, covering Manhattan, Bronx, and Staten Island (Brooklyn and Queens have independent systems), so we go into the facility that brings in materials from the branches, sorts them, and sends them out to the proper branch.

As fascinating, informative, and wonderful as this was, I do have a few complaints about it.

First of all, it was long. It ran for 3:15.

Second, there was no narration or text to explain anything. When we saw speakers they were not identified unless they or their hosts did or said something. And a few of them didn’t. The speakers in staff meetings were not identified nor were we told what kind of staff meeting it was.

Third, when the film sat in on a program, lecture, or meeting, it did so for lengthy chunks. I didn’t actually time them, but would guess many were over five minutes. Each individual speaker was fascinating (and I noticed none spouted a conservative viewpoint), but after two hours I wondered could we just hear an excerpt?

The film demonstrates that a library and a library system provides a huge range of services vital to their patrons and vital to a democracy. We need strong libraries.



The second was Score: A Film Music Documentary. Through discussions with a long list of famous film composers (John Williams of Star Wars fame among them) we understand why film music is important – it tells us how to feel. The original King Kong movie was cheesy until the music was added. We get a bit on how the music gets composed, though each composer works in a different way. We see how composers interact with directors (sometimes over some now iconic tunes). We get a historical tour of great moments in film music. This includes jazz introduced with the James Bond movies, the central role of the guitar in Morricone’s spaghetti westerns, the resurgent of the big orchestra in Star Wars, and a few more.

What was most fascinating for me was the visits to the recording studios where the notes on the page are turned into sound. I’m used to watching a symphony orchestra conductor who has eye contact with the players. But film music conductors (when not the composer) have their heads down and eyes on the score. The difference is that when conducting a symphony the conductor gets the score well ahead of time and studies it in detail. The performers do too. But the film score conductor and all the session musicians get the music that morning. The prized skill, a big reason why they were hired, is the ability to sight-read.



On to a pair of books I finished recently. Both are set in the West of more than a century ago.

I most recently finished The Wistling Season by Ivan Doig. I had read another book by Doig and enjoyed it enough to look for another. The story is set in rural Montana in 1909. The narrator is Paul Milliron, then 13, his brothers Damon, 12, and Toby, 7. Their mother died the year before and they are being cared for by Father. He spots an advertisement of a recently widowed woman seeking a housekeeping position in Montana, though she is clear she does not cook. The family accepts her offer, though the boys are disappointed in that one stipulation – Father is not a good cook.

A major part of the story is the one-room schoolhouse where at least 35 kids in eight grades gather. Paul is glad he is in 7th grade because many in the current 8th grade seem to have gotten stuck there. The teacher is good at keeping all the kids busy, though there wasn’t much portrayal of the younger kids asking the older ones for help while the teacher was busy with another grade. I hadn’t realized that in a place like Montana most, perhaps all, of the students arrived on horseback. All three boys have their own horse and the author calls them the “Milliron calvary.”

I enjoyed the book for the interesting story, the insights to the situation the author inserts, and the author’s rich writing style.



The other book is Roughing It by Mark Twain. This has been on my book shelf perhaps a couple decades. In 1860 Twain’s brother is appointed to be secretary to the governor of the Nevada Territory and he goes too. He describes the three week stagecoach ride from St. Joseph, Missouri to Carson City. Once there he has a variety of adventures. Those include trying to mine silver and gold (he tells us how it is supposed to be done). He serves as a journalist in Virginia City and in San Francisco. He also grabs an opportunity to spend a year in the Sandwich Islands (now known as Hawaii). Along the way he tells us about every eccentric character he meets and does it in the dry wit we expect from Twain.

One story Twain tells (alas, I can’t retype the whole thing) is during the stagecoach trip. A man named Bemis is on a horse and is chased by a bison bull. The saddle slips off and as it slides over the horse’s tail it give a mighty kick, sending Bemis sprawling and the saddle sailing. Bemis dashes for a tree and climbs it. The saddle lands in the same tree. The bull starts climbing the tree and he is able to use the saddle’s lariat to snare the bull’s tail, then he shoots the bull and leaves it hanging in the tree. Back with his comrades we get this exchange:
“Bemis, is all that true, just as you have stated it?”

“I wish I may rot in my tracks and die the death of a dog if it isn’t.”

“Well, we can refuse to believe it, and we don’t. But if there were some proofs–”

“Proofs! Did I bring back my lariat?”

“No.”

“Did I bring back my horse?”

“No.”

“Did you ever see the bull again?”

“No.”

“Well then, what more do you want? I never saw anybody as particular as you are about a little thing like that.”

I made up my mind that if this man was not a liar he only missed it by the skin of his teeth.

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