Stargirl of the Edge

Ch 25 - A Cathedral to Books

The library in this chapter is inspired by the John Rylands Library on Deansgate in Manchester city centre. It is about an often frustrating aspect of libraries for students - reference books. You would love to borrow them but you can't. When I was a student, there were books that had been stolen or pages torn out of them. The tone is light-hearted and mildly comical.

The John Williamson Sneed Memorial Library was a magnificent sight, standing in front of them on the opposite side of the street. Its richly ornamented, chocolate coloured walls were lit up by patches of sunlight that shone through the clouds that were passing quickly overhead. The city centre was busy and there were lots of people and cars moving up and down the street. After crossing at the lights they went up the steps of the front entrance and inside. It was like walking into a fairy tale castle from the Middle Ages. It was dark with a hushed atmosphere with columns similar to an ancient church. Their eyes were drawn upwards to where the columns merged to form an ornate, patterned ceiling. Everything was carved out of reddish-brown stone and was lit by myriads of old fashioned light bulbs, each tiny, brightly burning filament like a very bright firefly, emitting a warm glow through the clear, shiny glass.
They ascended the grand staircase, and Olivia recognised griffins carved into the stone. They had dragon-like wings and angry little faces. They continued to the top of the stairs, and as they entered the main hall, Olivia imagined the sound of a ceremonial bell. At the far end of the hall there was a magnificent stained glass window. On either side, on two floors, there were shelves filled with old books protected behind glass. Liz walked to the counter, the receptionist looked up.
“Oh hello there, I’m interested in a book, it’s for my daughter Olivia.”
The receptionist smiled politely, not quite knowing how to react to this woman with big eyes, jet black curly hair and an engaging smile. But a couple of seconds later, she stood up.
“You’ll need to fill out this form. Are you a member of the library?”
“Yes, I’m a member of the University Library. Here’s my library card.”
The receptionist checked and nodded. Liz gave the form to Olivia to complete the details. As she was doing so, Liz gazed up and around the magnificent ceiling and walls. Olivia gave the paper back to Liz, she signed it and handed it over.
“We’ll have the book for you in about 15 minutes” said the receptionist.
While they were waiting, they looked at an exhibition of old books that were displayed in glass cabinets with thin, clear glass. There was a notice asking visitors not to lean on the cabinet. Olivia was captivated with the bright colours of the pages and the ornate designs of the covers, and thought she would like to create a hand-made mini-book like that herself, if only she had the time.
There were books from Arabia, Persia and the Far East, including one or two in Chinese.
The receptionist returned, and they both walked back to the counter. Olivia was excited to be able to pick the book up with her hands.
Liz continued to look around the library whilst Olivia sat at the table, carefully browsing the pages of the book. It was written entirely in Chinese. She recognised a few of the characters, but most were unknown to her. The pages were full of charts with indecipherable symbols, a mass of confusing marks, diagrams and Chinese characters, nearly all of which she had never seen before. Perhaps Esther would be able to make sense of it.
And then she reached the back and found a slip of paper. She was disappointed to read the words ‘For reference only. Not to be removed from the library.’
Liz returned and whispered to her
“Well Livvy, have you found what you were looking for?”
“Yes, but it’s only a reference book. It can’t be taken out of the library. Oh, if only I could borrow it! If only I could just take it home and read it, all this evening and tomorrow.”
“It’s not possible to take it out? That’s a shame. I was allowed to take some old books out of the main library. One was 300 years old. Let me enquire” she said, walking over to the receptionist.
“No, it’s all right Mum you don’t have to...”
Liz walked to the enquiry desk, there was an exchange of words, and the assistant shook her head. Liz leaned forward and said some more words.
The assistant got up, knocked on the door at the back and returned. She said something to Liz, who waved at to Olivia to come over. A man emerged from the office. He was of medium height, bearded, and wore round glasses with thick lenses. He stopped behind the counter and peered first at Liz with her wide piercing eyes, and then Olivia who glanced over at him with a shy expression.
“How may I help you?” he said in a deep voice.
“Oh, hello there, thank you so much for coming out to speak to us, now I just wanted to have a word…”
As Liz spoke he put his index finger to his lips. Immediately Liz started to whisper. “I just wanted to have a word with you about this book. My daughter is very interested in it for her project at school in Alderley Edge, that’s where we live. She’s very interested in art and Chinese things, her dad’s Chinese you know.” Olivia looked away. Why did she have to tell the whole world their life story. “We were wondering if you might be able to answer a question for us about it, because, well she has to have her assignment in for Monday, don’t you dear?”
“Oh, er, yes, Monday, that’s right.” said Olivia
“And I know how important it is to get your assignments in on time, I’m doing a part time course for adults at the university, English Literature you know, with Professor James Merristoke, do you know Jim?”
The man nodded. Liz continued
“And we wouldn’t want to disappoint her would we? She’s such a keen student, brilliant mind, so creative she’s a very talented artist as well.”
The man looked Liz and Olivia up and down once more through the thick lenses of his spectacles. He had an inscrutable expression, an expression that was impossible to fathom, it was impossible to know what was going on in his mind.
“Would you mind telling me what your question is, please?” he asked.
“Well you see, she’s such a keen student and she loves books so much and she needs this one desperately for her project…”
Though she was doing her best to speak as quietly as possible, other people were looking around.
“Is there somewhere we can talk in private please, your office, perhaps? We don’t want to disturb the other readers, do we?”
The man lifted the counter. Liz and Olivia followed him into the office. He closed the door and they sat down.
“You were saying, Mrs…”
“Well my married surname is Yang, as I said, my husband’s Chinese, very well respected in the business community.”
“Your husband is Dennis Yang? Ah yes, I have heard of him. He has donated to the University in the past, I believe.”
“Yes, that’s right!”
“Yes, I am very happy to meet you. But Mrs Yang…”
“Oh, just call me Liz, and this is my daughter Olivia.”
“Well… ahem… Elizabeth… could you please explain to me in clear terms what exactly it is you want?”
He looked at the book, which Olivia had placed on his big desk. The office walls were covered in dark wood panelling and behind him was a portrait in oils of the founder of the library, Sir John Williamson Sneed, who was wearing an academic gown. With his round glasses and beard, the man bore a remarkable resemblance to the founder. Only the his modern shirt collar and jacket were different.
“What do I want? Oh, it’s just that, oh, sorry what’s your name?”
“Snaith, Vincent Snaith, Chief Librarian.”
“Oh, Vincent? I knew a Vincent. Very good friend of mine, lovely bloke.”
“Yes… but if you would kind enough to tell me the nature of your enquiry, I would be more than happy to deal with it.”
“Well, Olivia needs to refer to this book for her project. It’s part of her A level exam isn’t it Olivia... What subject?”
“Science, well… Mathematics. And Art. Kind of.”
“So we were wondering if you wouldn’t mind if we borrowed it until Monday.”
“I am afraid that will not be possible. Reference books may not be removed from the library.
“Oh Vincent,” she said, and his eyes narrowed. “I know about the rules…” and she nodded her head, “but she needs to be able to study the book at home. She’s an excellent student and she’s going to do brilliantly in this project. All she needs is to take the book home, so she can study the relevant sections. I’ll bring it back myself on Monday.”
“I’m terribly sorry… Mrs Yang… but that will not be possible. This is a reference book and cannot be taken out of the library.”
“That’s a shame, is it so rare that people have to come here to see it?”
“It is not especially rare but it is a reference-only book and so cannot be taken out.”
“Is it available on the website? I mean, they have whole books on websites now, don’t they?”
“The library has a programme of digitisation of its books but due to cuts in funding, we have only completed a small number so far. But if you do not mind me saying, it seems rather an unusual choice of book for a student preparing for her A levels?”
“Unusual?” asked Liz, “How do you mean?”
“I cannot imagine that it is on any syllabus. There is little of value in it, scientific or otherwise. Jiang Wei is considered by many scholars to be one of the lesser authors of his era. His works are not held in high regard. It is simply a collection of verses on no particular subject. A confused, random set of thoughts, that make no sense. ”
“You seem to have strong views on the subject?”
“I studied Ancient Chinese Philology.”
“Where?”
“Here, at the University.”
“But how can you be so sure? Have you read the book from cover to cover then?”
“I have read enough of it to know that it is of little value, though it is notable in one aspect. It has an unusual type of binding. I cannot see that it is of relevance to any A level student.”
“Well, I think that’s for my daughter to decide, she is the one who is doing the project!”
Olivia said nothing.
“You are very welcome to peruse the book at the library during opening hours.”
“But that’s no use! We live near Alderley Edge, Livvy’s at school every day.”
“I’m afraid there is nothing I can do.”
“Would it help if I gave a donation! Our family are always happy to support education and libraries.”
She got out a scruffy, rolled up cheque book, took a pen from her handbag and started to write on it.
“I’m sorry, but…” and as he spoke, he turned his head towards the painting behind him “The John Williamson Sneed Memorial Library do not provide books in return for payment, and so,” he said, standing up, “I would like to thank you for your interest in the Library. Please feel free to browse the book, the assistants are available to help you. It is nearly closing time, and I have a meeting to go to. Thank you, and it has been very pleasant to meet you both.”
“Now, who do I make the cheque payable to?” said Liz, “The John Williamson… ooh, It’s very long, isn’t it? Shall I just write JWS?”
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