Luther Seminary Library

"I don't know Egyptian yet."

Michael Chan—2009 MA Graduate

Michael has been one of the library regulars ever since he and wife Katherine, moved from California to Minnesota to begin his MA studies in late 2006. After two and a half years of studying (and a little teaching at Northwestern Bible College), they'll move to Atlanta at the end of July. Michael will begin Ph.D. studies at Emory's Graduate School of Religion. Over the next month Michael will be researching a couple of projects. Since graduation he's been working steadily at Luther, though since losing his ILL privileges, he can be found at the University of Minnesota at least one day a week.

   Currently researching the lexical entry for "rejoice" (gyl) for the next edition of Theologisches Wörterbuch zu den Qumrantexten (ThWQ), which is based on The Theological Dictionary of the Old Testament. Michael is firmly in the data collection stage, exploring how the Hebrew root has been used in Qumranic material. He hopes to finish before the move. He's also involved with a comparative literature study of ornithologic imagery in Isaiah (10:14). He's working with Emory Professor Jacob Wright on an article about birds and the ancient Near Eastern Kings' use of this imagery that portrayed them as fowlers.

    Besides "basic" classes, Michael is looking forward to learning more about art history and iconography. He's very interested in the intersection of literature and royal centers of power in the ancient near east.

    We enjoy getting to know our students and helping with their studies. We'll miss Michael's search for interesting materials as he pursues his career goal of teaching and researching. Maybe one of these days we'll add his new book to our collection.

— Jennie Bartholomew, Electronic Services Librarian

Libraries: How Many Do We Need?

If there is a contemporary author who reflects more wisely on the intriguing relationships that exist between people and their books than Alberto Manguel, I'd like to know who s/he is.

An author of some renown himself, Manguel is also a connoisseur of books, and he has delved thoughtfully into how collections, whether personal or in libraries, work on behalf of owners and users in their various settings.

In his 2006 work, The Library at Night (available from our library – Level 8 – at Z665 .M36), for example, he explores several metaphors (the library as space, as workshop, as imagination, etc.) to describe some of the roles that books and libraries fulfill.

Two recent circumstances – the end of the semester, and being away from home a lot - have helped me think further about some of this. It occurs to me that our "libraries" – defined here as "the sources we have reason to interact with at a given time" – can have several horizons at once. In my case, I can think of three:

1. the books and resources I knew I would need during my current travels out of the country. These I carry either in my laptop bag (overstuffed even at the best of times), or (for shorter items such as articles or manuscripts for editing) loaded onto my laptop, or (this is an experiment) a few books loaded onto the library's Amazon Kindle (see entry from this blog back in February. )These constitute the essentials for my situation at present, the items I'd immediately feel the lack of had I forgotten them;
2. resources which are less critical, but which can be conveniently accessed if and when I have a wifi connection. These might be considered as backup resources, for providing background or fact-checking for the first category. Wikipedia, for example.
3. the actual physical library, which is for most of us the most familiar horizon. This library can be thought of as the place where there is everything I need. But its usefulness, even now, with more and better resources available online, depends heavily on my actually being in-the-building.

I'm guessing that my situation, my relationship to these three "libraries" at the same time, is not so unusual: as we travel, as we spend more and more of our time within reach of some network or other, and as we move through various phases of education and life in general (end of semester, for example) each of us is constantly having to make decisions about what resources we can, and can't, do without.

Which leaves me with two timely reminders as we make the adjustment from end-of-term to the summer:

• libraries like ours need to get better and better at understanding and fostering these various horizons. The time has passed when people can, or should be expected to, get everything they need only by physically being in our library.
• there is no better time to remind yourself of what the library offers online, and what excellent resources you can still get to wherever you find yourself this summer.

DRS

 

The Library Breathes In

Back in library school, for my very first course, I read a book on the history of libraries entitled Libraries: An Unquiet History, which documented the long, hard struggle of librarians to banish the horrible sounds of conversation from within the sanctum of their temple of bookishness. Apparently, books truly thrive in an environment of continual shushing, and in fact emit a silent, psychological shush beam that our minds can pick up when there is a sufficient concentration (try going up to our rare books room, for instance). Actually, that wasn't exactly what it was about; it also covered the sacking and burning of libraries, the robbing of libraries, and the growth of the modern library, where we hope none of those calamities will occur (including the shushing).

The author, Mr. Battles, is a librarian at Harvard, and he begins by suggesting a very interesting image of the academic library exhaling books at the beginning of the semester, and inhaling at the end--almost as if it were a giant living, breathing being. Well, as many of you know, we recently celebrated the changing of our bookdrop, which will hopefully let the library inhale more freely and allow it to get a good night's sleep. All of this led me to wonder, though, what detritus the library inhales with it's returning books.

I found an interesting description in the New York Times of some rather unique items used for bookmarks, including bacon—that's right, bacon. Thankfully, it appears from their graphic above that they are in production on the all-new book x-ray machine, which will allow us to discover these items and eliminate them. The library breathes in, but remember, it isn't actually hungry. Thanks for a great semester, and for returning all your books!

Will Keillor, Acquisitions

Maxims to the Max

I've just begun reading Mary George's Elements of Library Research: What Every Student Needs to Know (Princeton University Press, 2008), but in my thus far brief acquaintance I have discovered and enjoyed perusing the author's compilation of home grown snippets of advice which she intersperses throughout the text.  Mary's Maxims, as she calls them, are distilled bits of wisdom about the research process intended to reduce anxiety and increase enjoyment.  Here are several I particularly like:

+ Expect complexity
+ Don't settle for what's handy
+ Taking time will save time
+ One good thing will lead to another
+ When in doubt, document
+ Verify, verify, verify
+ If at first you don't succeed, read the research tips

To the last I would add, "or ask a library staff person for a little help."  Like proverbs everywhere, these maxims and others (she has 16 in all) point to some fundamental truths about research that, if taken to heart, will most certainly maxim-ize results achieved and satisfaction therein.

Bruce Eldevik