As an Honours student, I have devoted a sizeable chunk of my year to studying in Fisher Library.
I use the computer labs there, I search for books there, I look up journal articles online, and as an added bonus, I am able to order books from other libraries if the Fish doesn't carry them.
This process is called Document Delivery, and today, I'm going to tell you all about the man who runs the DD show: Rod.
There are some events which a person will naturally look forward to. Some people count down the days on a calendar, others speak about them relentlessly, and others still relish these experiences like toasted marshmallows melting in one's mouth.
Going to the library is not one of those events.
Don't get me wrong, I love my research. But Fisher Library is not the most exciting hole in the wall, and to be perfectly frank, I can think of thousands of other places I'd rather be.
It's not just the 1970's neo-Bauhaus architecture* that disheartens me. It's the uncomfortable silence frequently interrupted by groups of well-meaning students fighting over the one copy of Benedict Anderson's Imagined Communities, and the pallor on most of the librarians' faces, and the fact that they won't let me borrow until I pay off my ever-swelling fines.
But every thorn has its rose, and in this case, it is the always effervescent Document Delivery man, Rod.
Back in the days when I was still allowed to order books from Document Delivery (which is, in itself, a remarkable process: if you are an Honours or PhD. student and require a book that Sydney University libraries don't carry, you can request that the book be delivered to the uni, for you to pick up at your convenience! Amazing, huh?) and my library fine was nearer to the price of a pair of Payless shoes, rather than Stella McCartney, I was busy racking up thousands of frequent borrower points in Document Delivery.
Never was I happier to borrow a book. Honestly.
As I'd enter the Document Delivery office, on the third floor, Rod (aforementioned DD overseer) would literally spring from his chair to greet me. He'd ask for my library card, promptly gather my books and set me on my merry way.
Rod is a rare breed. I am convinced that his primary purpose in life is to make visitors to the library smile. He is an impressive anomaly whom I feel needs to be seen to be believed.
He is constantly in possession of good manners - I've never heard so many pleases and thankyous and have-a-good-days in my life. He has a permanently affixed smile and he is sure to make eye contact as he is speaking to you.
As the weeks went on, Rod not only remembered my name, but could also (insert incredulous gasp) construct friendly banter about the books I was borrowing. He asked me what my thesis was about. Amazingly, he was actually interested to hear about it (this is exceptional - NOBODY, but nobody, wants to hear about anybody's thesis.)
So it is to Rod I extend my eternal thanks. I still don't look forward to visiting the stacks, but I do know that if I peer around the corner on Level 3, I'm sure to leave with a smile.
*Alex will probably pull me up on this, so here's my disclaimer: Bauhaus is one of the only architectural terms in my vocabulary, and I know that it means modernist (?) and ugly (?). I learnt about it when I was studying Albert Speer in Modern History. If I'm wrong, I'm sorry, Alex, and you're welcome to correct me!
Comments
"Alex will probably pull me up on this..." How'd you guess, Lauren? :P
I don't know if I'd call the old fish '1970s neo-Bauhaus'. It was actually built in '62, but yes, it does take some cues (at least on the exterior) from the philosophy of clean lines and simplicity pioneered by the Bauhaus. In terms of its appearance, I guess you could say it is ugly, but I think it has integrity in its intention (if not its execution) and at least in that way it is good. Compare it then with Carslaw or the Chemistry building and I think it wins hands-down in terms of looks.
I also remember Bauhaus from my Albert Speer unit. The whole deal was that Walter Gropius started up the school in Weimar straight after WWI. It followed a similar line to Dada in that it reacted to all the sh!t that was going on in Europe at the time, bringing together artists, craftsmen, performers and architects. Gropius was initially concerned with re-learning the basics of craftsmanship as he was with provokation and reaction. When Meis van der Rohe took it up (towards the end) he pushed an even more radical view in light of the growing power of the Nazis.
When Weimar finally fell and Hitler came to power he shut down free thinkers and their groups like the Bauhaus, much like Stalin did in the USSR. It's not known to what extent Speer is to blame for this, although judging from his syle (or lack of!) in his plans for Welthauptstadt Germania it looks like he must have played a big part. Anyway, to cut the long story short the Bauhaus remains a watershed in the cultural history of contemporary Europe. And though people dispute its worth (aesthetically), there's no denying the significance in retains in modern art and architecture today.
Ok, I'm done! Oh and by the way, the old fish might look better today had they planned the structure better. Have a look at the cantilevered eaves next time you go past - they're actually sagging. It looks like a sponge cake sagging under the weight of its filling! Apparently nothing can really be done until it's time to pull down the entire thing, which could be many decades away...
Posted by: Alex | August 21, 2006 09:14 PM
Loved the entry Lauren! You're spot on - Rod is the best part of the library experience and his cheery face has made my day many a time! Thanks for writing your Ode and thanks to Rod for being so consistently kind to every student that walks through his door!
Posted by: Angie | September 6, 2006 12:25 PM