Shhhhhhhhh!

Permit me to bore you with details of the University of London's Senate House Library, in an effort to not write depressing things about how lonely and homesick I am, and how much I miss my dog, or I almost cried three different times yesterday morning in the reading rooms of the British Library, or about how hard it was for me to get out of bed this morning (oh, wait, I just wrote that). Well, now that we've gone there, I will mention that I got very sage advice yesterday from my friend Sheila who has "been there, done that,' and I spent most of the afternoon investigating groups on meetup.com and, joy of all joys, signing up for a fiddle class at a place called The Cecil Sharpe House.  I emailed the instructor who invited me to join the session going on now, and said he would also have some leads on jam sessions.

Anyway, anyway, anyway.  Libraries.

The Brits love their procedures.  There is a multi-step process for everything you do.  And everything you want to do requires a form (sometimes many) of identification.  For example, to open a bank account (which I can't do because I'm not an official resident) or get a Reader's Card (library card) you need, like, seven different proofs of identity, address, blood-type, education, paternal grandmother's maiden name (I only exaggerate slightly). In order to read a book at The British Library, you must first long onto a computer using an account number, then you find what book you want and request that it be brought to a certain reading room front desk, then you must log in to that account so that you can see when (takes up to 70 minutes) your book is ready, then you must go to the front desk and show your ID to the attendant, then she/he retrieves your book from the back room, then you must tell him/her your seat number, then you read your book, then you have to go back to the front desk and give them your books, showing your ID yet again.  Add to this a long list of prohibited items (coats, bags, pens, highlighters, sharp implements, food, drink, cough drops, gum, cameras) and the fact that you are subject to a strip search before entering the building or leaving a reading room.  At the Bodleian at Oxford, add to this a sworn oath that you shalt not lighteth a fire in the library and an honest-to-god letter of introduction. I have also found the staff of these kinds of libraries to be at least 7 times out of 10, singularly bitter and intentionally unhelpful.

So the Senate House Library does not allow access to  foreign students unless you are pursuing a research degree.  Well, I am, but my student ID card does not specify my status, so, according to their website, I would need to provide the following: 1) Passport 2)Proof of Address 3)proof of current enrollment status and 4) proof of enrollment as a Ph.D student. Printing is somewhat difficult in my current living situation, but after much wailing and gnashing of teeth, I managed to procure and print off a copy of my enrollment certificate and my Admission to Candidacy Letter.  I stumble into Admissions office, armed with all my documentation, and braced for interrogation.

And instead I find a perfectly helpful receptionist, who was both kind and chatty, who presented me with the easiest and most unthreatening application process I've yet to encounter. I told her I was a Ph.D student, and she merely asked to see my university ID.  "Do you not need to see all the other stuff?" says I. "No worries," she says, "I believe you." Be still my beating heart.

The University of London is much more laid back than its snooty Oxbridge counterparts. This makes sense, I suppose, as it was founded  in 1836 originally to provide an alternative education to people who wanted to study in the sciences and "useful arts," not just Classics, Letters, and Theology, the staples of Oxbridge.  It was also, in 1878, the first university to admit women in degree programs.
Senate House Library is an open stacks library, which is virtually unheard of in most of the big libraries. It was actually quite cosy and welcoming.

Of course it didn't mean that the reading rooms weren't still deathly silent. I found my way into the "Middlesex Germanic Studies" reading room, where a handful of students hunched over their books.  My stomach began to growl ever-so-softly and it practically echoed through the room.  The coolest thing about the library is the study carrels, which are rented out to advanced students.  When I think of carrells, I think about the ones at Bard College:

(basically, a small desk full of your Senior Project books

and rotting food, that other people still use anyway)

These, on the other hand, were beautiful, hard-wood rooms(about as big as the place I'm living), built into the bookstacks and accessed by skeleton key.  

Well, I was suitably impressed.  

My time in the reading room came quickly to an end, however, as my leather-bottomed chair kept making farting noises underneath me, which I think could have been heard out on the street. 

I may make this library my default instead of the BL for days that I just need to process what I've collected or plan more archive visits.