Library of the World

Now that I am writing my thesis, I am spending every day in our university’s library.  I know every corner of that library: every outlet for computers, every trashcan for apple cores, every comfy chair with the nice recline for napping.  I see all of my friends there.  Look, you can recognize them too, by their bloodshot eyes, their desperate smiles, the mass of books and papers piled around them, unopened.

We are in Sweden, but we are all from different cultures.  And we all check into the library with our different expectations, this I have found out.  Today I was trying to focus my eyes again and reading the same sentence for the fourth time (“the race was prudential… hmm… I love that song, ‘Dear Prudence’… my dad used to play that while we built things with Legos on the floor, and hearing it always makes me think of the time my mom vacuumed up all of the pirate set.”).  I heard the familiar tones of an American from across the building, and looking to the other balcony, lo and behold, I matched the voice with the talker.  It seemed somehow comforting to me, hearing this familiarity in a strange land, and yet, after minutes, I wanted to politely smother him and dangle him over the balcony.

In America, you have different areas of quiet in the library.  On the first floor, anything goes.  I was shocked to realize that I abide by that rule here in Sweden too, and never realized why Swedes seemed to be glaring at me.  Well, glaring for Swedes is a cursory glance up from their book, and a furtive stare back down again.  Today, when I look around, and I see everyone else abiding by their own country’s library rules too.  The Swedes are seemingly silent, but on closer look: they all whisper in unearthly quiet tones and when their cellphone silently rings, they just know, and they transmit telepathic messages to their friends as their lips barely move.

I am distracted as a French guy puts on headphones next to me, and plays heavy techno beats that I “can’t hear”, while he watches an instructional video on how to print.  My friends, from Georgia and Cyprus, talk in a hushed shout back and forth, only restraining from smacking the table while making points. But in true Swedish fashion, no one tells us to shut up.  A cursory glance is enough.

I remember my German friend being shocked when she entered the Swedish library.  People eating whole meals, having whole conversations… what is this, a McDonalds?  I didn’t understand- I thought the Swedish library was a big step up from American libraries, as far as silence and freedom go (sorry, America).  But when I went to Germany and my friend took me into a library, I understood.  I never knew such a quiet, controlled place existed.  It was like going into a bat cave deep below the Earth’s surface, where no light or sound can enter.  Outside the library, we abandoned all of our things, including 70 euro boots my friend had just bought.  No lockers, no need. We stepped through the metal detectors, and all sound was instantly sucked out.  People by the computers communicated in rushed sign language.  The librarian whispered quietly into someone’s ear.  There was definitely no food, and there was certainly no sound!  I felt ashamed to be wearing a coat that swooshed while I walked.

My favorite story is from a Swede who says she was chewing on a pen cap once, at a private desk.  In Sweden, they offer private, walled in desks, perfect for sleeping.  She didn’t even realize she was chewing on it, when someone walked by and at the last moment, dropped a note onto her desk.  She opened it and read, “Please stop chewing on your pen cap.”  This is Swedish enough, not being able to deal with confrontation, but what’s even more Swedish was my friend’s response: no, she didn’t stand and confront him- she took all of her things and left, embarrassed.

A library is a place of study for some of us.  For others, the only social interaction we get these days.  So in this big melting pot of a building, we’ll all have to… hold on, I think I’m typing too loudly.