Libraries in the Ancient World by Lionel Casson

Libraries in the Ancient World

by Lionel Casson

Yale University Press, 2001

177 pages

I like history, and I like libraries. This book has been on my radar since 2008, when it was reviewed at Bookwyrme's Lair. Just that brief little blurb rocketed this book onto my list, because: history, libraries. Yes.

It's not a very long book. The page count includes several pages of notes and an index. The writing is mostly quite readable if sometimes (infrequently) a little stilted in the way of academic writing. The descriptions are often evocative enough that with the accompanying (grainy, black and white) pictures, I can visualize what an ancient Roman or Greek library might have looked like. I can picture the people, the books, the spaces.

I like that Casson leaves some things to us to infer, as well, as when discussing theft and/or damage in the private libraries of Assyria. He just goes straight to the source text for us, with an ancient version of a book plate and theft policy:

Clay tablet of Ashurbanipal, King of the World, King of Assyria, who trusts in Ashur and Ninlil. Your lordship is without equal, Ashur, King of the Gods! Whoever removes [the tablet], writes his name in place of my name, may Ashur and Ninlil, angered and grim, cast him down, erase his name, his seed, in the land.

Or perhaps one prefers the caution against damaging a book (this one is my favourite, because it was clearly written by one hella pissed off librarian):

He who breaks this tablet or puts it in water or rubs it until you cannot recognize it [and] cannot make it be understood, may Ashur, Sin, Shamash, Adad and Ishtar, Bel, Nergal, Ishtar of Nineveh, Ishtar of Arbela, Ishtar of Bit Kidmurri, the gods of heaven and earth and the gods of Assyria, may all these curse him with a curse which cannot be relieved, terrible and merciless, as long as he lives, may they let his name, his seed, be carried off from the land, may they put his flesh in a dog's mouth!

You can bet that put the fear of the gods in some careless library patron. It's a good reminder that there really is nothing new under the sun.

Actually, that said, the public library as we might recognize it was really an invention of the Greeks, quite some time after Ashurbanipal was cursing the seed out of the rascals who stole and desecrated his private books. And though Casson works his way through the Assyrians and slightly before all the way through to the beginning of the Middle Ages, the bulk of his time is spent showing us Greek and Roman libraries, both private and public. This is, one realizes, because that's where a lot of the evidence is -- earlier and there's not a lot to go on, later and we're out of the Ancient period Casson is investigating.

Which leads me to two things: the first is that this is a great book that investigates one aspect of a culture I know less about than I wish I did. My study of Greek culture is... extremely limited to say the least, and my study of Roman culture is limited to a Grade 10 Latin class. I took a Classics course in first year uni, but there we mostly looked at mythology, not culture (to the extent that it can be separated, which is actually quite a bit.) Therefore, I think this book will be a good re-read once I've done a bit more investigating into those cultures. I'm particularly taken with the pre-Greek cultures. I got a lot out of this little book, but I think I would have gotten even more if I had a better depth of knowledge of the time periods and cultures covered.

The second is that the cultures covered are Western precursors, which is of course the tradition in which I stand here today. I would love to read something similar about Eastern precursors. Well, to be honest, I would probably do well to read something about contemporary Eastern libraries. I don't even know if there is such a thing, though I assume there must be something like what we have here. Anyone have any suggested readings for me?

Overall, I highly recommend this book for anyone interested in libraries, or anyone interested in the history of books or reading or literature in ancient Western cultures. Anyone who knows ancient Greek and/or Roman will find this an interesting addition and in-depth investigation into one aspect of those cultures, too. Extremely fascinating, generally well-written, and I'm very glad fishy was able to find it for me.

Guards! Guards! by Terry Pratchett

So, my confession: the World Cup is putting a bit of a damper on my reading, and my reviewing. I finished this book a some time ago. I am usually pretty careful about reviewing very soon after the book is done, but in this case, I finished the book and the next morning happened to be a game I desperately wanted to watch: South Africa vs. Mexico. It was worth it. And then there was another game -- and another -- and oh look, I finished this book last week sometime, and I still haven't reviewed the thing yet. So here it is, posted, finally.

This is not fair to the book, as I loved it. It's unsurprising, as it's written by Terry Pratchett, but I still feel it warrants a mention: this book is awesome. It took me a little longer to get into it than usual, but I think I can blame this on circumstance (Summer reading is coming. Summer. Reading. Is. Coming. summerreadingiscomingomgaaaaaaaaaaaaaugh!!!) rather than the book itself. I persevered and was well-rewarded: Guards! Guards! is now one of my new favourite books. I have noticed this happens a lot with Pratchett. Not every time, but regularly enough to spot a trend.

This is the first of the Discworld books featuring the Watch. Sam Vimes is the captain of the Ankh-Morpork Night Watch, a ... well, diminished, perhaps is the nicest thing we can say about them... group of individuals who are all that is left of a once proud force for law and order in that most fragrant of cities. Vimes is an alcoholic, not even really functioning anymore as we meet him. He loves his city and he's blackly, horribly depressed at what the Watch has come to since the various guilds -- The Thieves Guild, the Assassins Guild, etc. -- have been declared legal. It's an interesting commentary on what happens to those who feel irrelevant, even if they have work and a place in society. Vimes knows that what he is, and what he does, means nothing to the larger society even though it means a great deal to him. It's one of those deeper threads that often sneak their way into the Discworld books.

But then due to circumstances largely unrelated to Vimes, things start to change: a new member of the Watch actually starts arresting people, men in dark cloaks start stealing various magical trinkets around the city, and a dragon starts setting various parts of Ankh-Morpork on fire. It's this last part that Vimes really takes exception to; Ankh-Morpork is his beloved city, and he's extremely unhappy that a flying impossibility is laying waste to it.

If there was ever any doubt about which genre Pratchett was delving into here, this paragraph should lay that to rest:

Now, why did I wonder if it has a lair? Vimes thought, as he stepped out into daylight and the crowded square. Because it didn't look real, that's why. If it isn't real, it doesn't need to do anything we expect. How can it walk out of an alley it didn't go into?

Once you've ruled out the impossible, then whatever is left, however improbable, must be the truth. The problem lay in working out what was impossible, of course. That was the trick, all right.

There was also the curious incident of the orangutan in the night-time...

The Holmes fan in me literally squealed when she read that passage. Luckily I keep her deeply enough buried that she doesn't embarrass me in public.

So yes. Mysteries. Police procedurals. Even, to my delight, noir -- there are nods to Philip Marlowe, which having actually read The Big Sleep, I got. A lot of the hard-bitten cop/private-eye tropes show up here, lovingly made Discworld's own by Pratchett. It works really well for me. The mystery is slightly different; we know who is responsible for the dragon's appearance, but we don't know who that person is. We know a little bit about the dragon, but we don't know everything. Like anything I've read by Pratchett so far, the truth is revealed in such a careful, imaginative way that I was both awed and thrilled. There are moments of catharsis in this novel that any fiction I've read would be hard pressed to match, and yet I never felt overly manipulated. And Vimes does his sleuthing with such hard-boiled, alcohol-fueled, city-smitten zeal that I couldn't help but fall for him hard.

The other aspect of this novel I enjoyed was spending a great deal more time with the Librarian, the above-mentioned orangutan in the night-time. That is one ape I would like to emulate; I would possibly give up being human if I could be a librarian like him. I leave you with this moment of librarian zen:

Then he tied one end of the ball to the desk and, after a moment's contemplation, knuckled off between the bookshelves, paying out the string behind him.

Knowledge equals power...

The string was important. After a while the Librarian stopped. He concentrated all his powers of librarianship.

Power equals energy...

People were stupid, sometimes. They thought the Library was a dangerous place because of all the magical books, which was true enough, but what made it one of the most dangerous places it could ever be was the simple fact that it was a library.

Energy equals matter...

He swung into an avenue of shelving that was apparently a few feet long and walked along it for half an hour.

Matter equals mass.

And mass distorts space. It distorts it into polyfractal L-space.

So, while the Dewey system has its fine points, when you're setting out to look something up in the multidimensional folds of L-space what you really need is a ball of string.

Next up: a soccer book. Yes, I am serious.

The Case of the Case of Mistaken Identity by Mac Barnett

There's something wonderful about sitting down with a book, not particularly convinced one wants to read it, not even particularly enjoying the first few pages, and then looking up some indeterminate time later and realizing that you're almost halfway through. Not only have you ingested large portions of the book, but you really enjoyed yourself doing it.

Mac Barnett's The Case of the Case of Mistaken Identity was recommended to me by a former co-worker, whom I am very sad about being former because she had the greatest book recommendations. I am concerned that I'm not going to be able to find kid's books about nefarious librarians without her assistance, being as she was also the one who turned me on to Brandon Sanderson's Alcatraz, too.

Every Librarian is a highly trained agent. An expert in intelligence, counterintelligence, Boolean searching, and hand-to-hand combat.

Nefarious librarians and wanton library destruction (not the sprinklers!!) are about where the similarities to Alcatraz end, however. Steven Brixton (aka Steve) is a twelve-year-old wannabe detective. He lives by the Bailey Brothers' Detective Handbook, he has read the entire 58-book Bailey Brothers detective series multiple times, and he's even got his own detective ID card. This all turns out to be somewhat useful to him when he unwittingly becomes wrapped up in a dangerous scheme involving a librarian formerly known as la Gata de la Muerte (this is never translated in the text, but I got it and I laughed out loud), a mysterious Mr. E (say that one out loud) and a book about early American needlepoint.

We're spoofing boys' detective fiction here, my friends, and it's really fun. This will be mightily appreciated by adults who grew up with the Hardy Boys, and there's plenty in here aside from that direct spoof that an adult reading this book aloud to kids will thoroughly enjoy. Kids who are fans of detective fiction will get a kick out of this one too. There's not a page goes by without something funny or some clever allusion, but the book doesn't read like an exercise in Mac Barnett being excessively witty. It always stays just this side of the line of too clever for its own good -- though I'll admit I felt it was on the wrong side for the first few pages.

Steve himself is a very engaging character. I wondered a little at the end if Steve had really learned anything or grown at all through his adventure, but I came to the conclusion that he really does; and that, in my estimation, puts him leagues ahead of Frank and Joe Hardy as a character. And I'll admit to still loving Frank and Joe so that's saying a fair bit. Steve even reads as a genuine if mostly extremely clever kid, and there were things he did and said that rang true, even if some of the situations he finds himself in are too incredible to be believed. I cheered for him the whole way through.

Overall, recommended, especially as a read-aloud to kids around the ages of 8-12. I don't know if there's going to be another Brixton Brothers mystery; my suspicion is that packaging this book as No. 1 is part of the spoof. If there is, though, I'll read it.

Alcatraz Versus the Evil Librarians by Brandon Sanderson

I went out to lunch and ended up home with a brutal stomachache. Like, writhing around on the bed, sweating and whimpering. Constant low level pain I can deal with but the big stuff turns me into a lame wuss.

So, what did I do to distract myself from the pain? I read, of course. I read a lot. I read an entire book. It wasn't hard to do, because Alcatraz Versus the Evil Librarians is an excellent book to distract from pain without being something I had to concentrate hard on. Really, thanking the powers that be that I'd thought to bring home this book this weekend. It was perfect.

One of my librarian colleagues recommended this book to us during a children's programmer's meeting. She has good taste, and it definitely seemed like something I would find fun. A world controlled by evil Librarians? The library as the centre of evildoing in their nefarious plot to make the world a sane, organized and boring place? Yes! This is my kind of dystopia. Just let me practice my evil laugh.

Alcatraz Smedry is thirteen years old when he receives his inheritance from his absent parents: a bag of sand. That same day, he sets his foster parents' kitchen on fire. The next day, that bag of sand is stolen, an insane man shows up claiming to be his grandfather, and someone tries to shoot him in the burned kitchen. It turns out that sand was pretty important in the fight against the evil Librarians -- and Alcatraz must infiltrate the library with a band of very random characters (one is always late, one totes uzis in a duffle bag, another speaks gibberish when necessary and sometimes when not, and a third is a very unconventional sort of knight) to get the sand back.

I did really enjoy this book. It's quite diverting. It's a very fast read, too. The style of narration, however, may put some people off. Alcatraz tells us this story, and he talks directly to the reader, spending a lot of time trying to convince the reader that he's not a very good person at all, and also that this is a true story -- the true story, in fact, and the only one worth reading. He also breaks in a lot with wry comments on being an author, narrative structure, and explicit exposition. Given my aversion to forebludgeoning, I should have hated this book. And to be honest, I can't quite explain why I didn't. I usually find self-conscious narrators, especially self-effacing ones, irritating and very contrived (see: how much I hated Snicket's The Bad Beginning, although there were lots of other reasons for that too). I really liked Alcatraz, and though the chatty and "I'm not good, believe me, and you know that things are just going to go bad" narration occasionally made me roll my eyes, and seemed a bit too much, it never turned me off. Part of this may have been that I was desperate for something to concentrate on, but I think it is in large part due to some trick Sanderson (or should I say Smedry?) has up his authorly sleeve. I wasn't in much of a mood to analyse further.

Another thing I thoroughly enjoyed, as befits a book about librarians and libraries, were the sly little references to other books. Some of these references will go over the target audience's head (not too many 10-13 year old boys have read To Kill A Mockingbird, I suspect, but maybe I am wrong) but some of them will not be lost. There is one totally awesome Harry Potter smackdown at the end that made me laugh out loud, particularly because there were some unavoidable parallels to be made between the two heroes. If you didn't like Harry, though, you might still be up for Alcatraz. He manages to be sarcastic, full of himself, and yet strangely endearing all at once.

The third book in this series has just recently come out, and I'll be pushing this series a little harder at the desk (despite what Alcatraz suggests I might do instead, as a librarian -- take that, Smedry!) Particularly for boys in the above age group, but I'll recommend it for the right kinds of adults, too, and you likely know who you are. Sanderson is clearly multi-talented, being the chosen author to finish off Robert Jordan's mammoth Wheel of Time series, and also the author of the fantasy Mistborn series, which is also on my list to try. You can be sure I'm going to move that one up the queue a bit.

Now if you'll excuse me, I should go and make some plans for world domination.

EDIT: Another dastardly librarian reviewed this book on her blog the very same day I did! Coincidence? I think not.