Now THIS is history, part 2.

The other day a friend said to me, "Hey, did you know that Terry Jones [of Monty Python fame] has written a book on the Crusades?"

Well, I hadn't, but I immediately set about correcting that situation by requesting the book from the library. It's the companion to a BBC/A&E TV special (which I also want to see now) and it's a very, very readable account of the Crusades, and the Middle Ages by extension. It's not really funny, which you might expect from a Monty Python guy, because funny is hard to pull off where anything as senselessly tragic as the Crusades are involved, but it's definitely got style:

"During the battle a Norman eyewitness noticed that the Turks went into the attack with a distinctive war-cry: 'These Turks began, all at once, to howl and gabble and shout, saying with loud voices in their own language some devilish word which I do not understand.' Tancred's biographer, Radulph of Caen, explained that this 'devilish word' was "Allachibar,' that is, Allah al-Akhbar or 'God is great.' The two sides were hurling themselves into battle against each other, one side yelling 'God's will! God's will! God's will!' and the other 'God is great!' Both sides were addressing the same god. Neither could understand what the other was saying." (p. 49.)

In detailing the Crusades' leaders desire to amass land and booty, the author also subtly points out that love of money, perhaps even more so than love of God, had a little somethin' somethin' to do with these wars.

The book is great. But it was also fun picking it up from the library, where the check-out clerk got very excited when he saw it and said, "Hey, you're the second person to check this out this week, how interesting, I think now I have to request it!" It IS interesting that I was the second person to get it, since it's an oldish book (pub. date 1995). And I appreciated the clerk's telling me so, and we had a nice little chat about it, which I enjoyed. Evidently the library I go to now, as opposed to the library I worked for, doesn't have any stupid rule about clerks not talking to patrons about books. Can you believe I was ordered not to talk to people about any of the books they were checking out?* I know the reason for it; we weren't supposed to be prying. But I was always annoyed that my bosses thought my fellow circulation clerks and I were too brain-dead to know the difference between making a statement like, "So, I see you've been checking out a lot of divorce books, how's that working out for you?" and "Hey, a book by Terry Jones on the Crusades! Interesting! Let me know what you think of this, I'm considering getting it for myself."

And...end rant. Sorry about that. Clearly the no talky talky rule still rankles.

*Many librarians will disagree with me on this, citing that patrons have a right to privacy. I maintain that it was kind of a dumb rule, since when I sat at the reference desk (same library, different desk) I was supposedly allowed to talk about books to the patrons all I wanted. Which was weird, considering I was the same person regardless of which desk I was sitting at.

Comments

[lesbrarian]

No, you really were a different person when you switched desks. At the circ desk you were dumber. It's common knowledge that the reference librarians, with their MLS degrees, have superior intelligence.

[lesbrarian]

And I completely agree with the rule of not talking about books at the library. When a patron requested Jonathan Swift's "A Modest Proposal" last night, I kept my mouth shut. It would have invaded the patron's privacy for me to acknowledge that his diet consists of babies.

[Citizen Reader]

Lesbrarian,
Oh yes, let's not be social or interested in people in any way at the library.

Wow, people in your library read Jonathan Swift? I want to come work with you!

Now stop invading your patrons' privacy by talking to others about what they're reading! Gasp!

[lesbrarian]

And on that same day, a different person came to the desk, asking where we kept all the D. H. Lawrence books. She'd read one and now wanted to read the rest. At this point I curled up into a ball, died, and went to heaven.

[Alyce]

I can understand wanting to respect people's privacy, but I actually enjoy chatting with my librarians. I live in such a small town that we all know each other by name, and so the idea of them repecting our privacy is kind of silly. They know who I am and all of the books that I have put on hold. Of course I am less likely to put a very racy book on hold because I know they are going to see it. They are cool librarians and would never comment about it, but I know them so well, it would be really uncomfortable. In the same way that talking with your granny about sex is uncomfortable. :)

That being said, I can't think of a single book that I haven't checked out that I've wanted to.

[The Laundress]

Man, I am just delighted and also perplexed by your post here.

When I was (much) younger and purer, I LOVED to talk to customers about what they were reading and reserving and why...

I was dumb and ignorant and RAW (memorable conversations: gentle assurance that Evelyn Waugh was MALE and proper pronunciation of "Guy de Maupessant")

But overall, yeah, no comment is better, methinks. Not sure why -- gut reaction? Just asked my daughter, she loves when bookshop clerks comment on her purchases. She helpfully added nobody tells you are buying sucky books but if the clerk also loves your author or title, it is like extra-special wrapping paper.

Okay. I am not getting this topic. I also love at comic shop if the owner or his assistants tell me they loved reading my selections. Have most certainly noticed they refrain from commenting when I buy weird shit that I generally end up remorseful about... Um, you have offered up a yummy topic for further reflection.

Meanwhile, your fellow participant in stupid rules misses you!

[Citizen Reader]

Alyce,
Yes, I understand the need for privacy myself. What strikes me as laughable is how and where we protect it--as a circ clerk, I wasn't allowed to say anything to anybody about their books, but every store I shop at (including the pharmacy) has a big ol' record of what I buy, thanks to loyalty and credit card tracking. Great. That seems way more disrespectful of my privacy than what I check out at the library, but I notice no one's upset about the loyalty cards.

Ah, the raciness factor. Luckily early on I decided I couldn't be bothered to worry what people thought of what I was reading. If I detect any questioning glances about what I'm checking out, I just roll my eyes and say "It's for my husband." They don't know what to do with that, particularly on saucy romance novels. But it gives me a laugh. :)

[Citizen Reader]

Laundress!
Hm, I wouldn't mind knowing how to pronounce "Guy de Maupassant" myself. I will have to ask next time I'm in.

Oh, the no talky rule. I LOVE your daughter's comment--she's very astute, your girl. That was just thing thing. Even if they had made a rule to maybe say only positive things about books to patrons, that would have made sense. It was assuming that I was too dumb to make the distinction, and therefore shouldn't say anything to patrons, that pissed me off. Because we weren't dumb, and if the mgmt. who made the rule had gotten to know us at all, they would have known that. But the people making the rules are never the ones working by your side on the public service desks, I've noticed.

See? Don't you love the expertise exhibited by your comic shop helpers? I always, always, always appreciate when people who know and love what they're doing make suggestions for me--especially at the library, where no one's demanding I buy stuff. But none of us can know everything, so I appreciate it when people talk. I would never have known about this crusades book if not for my friend, and it made it all the more interesting to hear that other people were checking it out too. And see how your comic book people have discretion? At the library, I would never have said anything like "So, I see you're checking out Jodi Picoult. How on earth can you stand that shit?" In fact, if people had asked I'd have been happy to suggest similar authors--maybe some Anita Shreve or Chris Bohjalian?

But I digress. I miss you too. My hope for you is that this week you get to disregard some stupid rules. I have faith in you!