Vol. 16

The "Eternal Or" of the Librarian Francis F. Browne, editor of The Dial, Chicago.

Libraries are made of books, and the collecting and dispensing of these is the chief end and aim of the good librarian's life; there may be points of interest between him and one whose work, in quite a different way, has been concerned with books,-who, like the librarian, has lived his life among them; who has written them, edited them, printed them, published them; who, most of all, has been engaged in attempts at estimating them, trying to form a judgment of their rank and value, not only in cold and formal print, but often in a prior stage of their existence, before they were printed, with many aspiring manuscripts that never would be books at all; who has always been glad to praise them when he could, sorry to blame them when he must, and anxious chiefly to arrive as nearly as might be at a just and fair appraisal of their worth. And here, it would seem, might perhaps be found matters of common interest regarding books, and topics bearing upon the work and problems of librarians.

For many, if not for most, librarians the most vexing problem of their professional lives is, perhaps, the ever-pressing problem of book-selection. Every new book that is presented or announced flings at them its disturbing challenge. The average library can buy but few of all the books that are offered, and but one of the many the librarian would like to buy. Which shall it be?-This? OR That? OR T'Other? Ever the "Eternal OR," and ever the necessity of choosing. The problem is a more than doubly com

Address before the A. L. A. at Pasadena, Cal.

No. 6

plex one, since every choice of a book for purchase involves the rejection of others perhaps equally desirable. This rejection, indeed, is often the most trying part of the affair, since it seems to affix to many excellent and desirable books the stamp of the librarian's disapproval. But they cannot possibly accept all the books. that are offered them. They must weigh, deliberate, and choose. And so comes the "Eternal OR," the hard necessity of choosing. And the choice must be made wisely-in peril of peace with the Di

rectors, and with the Anxious Reader who expects to find the special book he long has sought and mourns because he finds it not. The librarian might well take to heart a paraphrase of Carlyle's words from Goethe,

"Scan all the Book Lists-
Study their pages
Of books for all ages-
Then hear the Voices:
Choose well, your choice is
Brief and yet endless."

The problem of book-buying is, of course, much harder for a librarian than for a private buyer. Not only is it more. difficult for a conscientious person to spend another's money than to spend his own, but the considerations involved in the selection are vastly more complex. The librarian must not only take the responsibility of making purchases for other people, but must distribute his purchases as judiciously as he can through all fields and provinces of literature. Not only must his quest extend to the general fields of science, history, or philosophy, where tests of scholarship and knowledge may be more definitely applied and the judgment of experts be available for his

guidance, but he must be alive to the claims of special works in the newer and more novel fields of research or speculation, where the attempt to keep up with what is really new and vital while at the same time shunning what is freakish and unworthy may well bewilder him and make him wish there were no such things as "advanced thought," or any further "extension of the boundaries of knowledge." Biography and memoirs are perhaps less difficult-the name of the subject and of the writer being sufficient for at least a preliminary clue to the importance and interest of a book.

It is in the fields of fancy and imagination, however, that the task of selection is undoubtedly hardest-the books which appeal to the larger number of readers, and the ones in which the range in merit from worst to best is greatest. The most difficult problem of all is probably the New Novel. Happy is the librarian who has a real book committee to take or share the responsibility in this field. Without this aid he must seek light and guidance from whatever source he may. Perhaps he tries-cften vainly-to read some of the newer books himself; or a kind member of the Board may be persuaded to give the library the benefit of his literary zeal and knowledge; or friends of the librarian will report their impressions of a book-sometimes in too diffuse a manner to be of much practical service, sometimes with the cryptic but sufficient formula, "n. g."

In any event, the most catholic-minded and impartial of librarians will not succeed in quite satisfying all classes of readers. Any general approval of his selections he need hardly hope for; expressions of disapproval are much more likely to be heard. The reader of fiction who is impatient for the latest, if not the most sensational, novel is scornful at seeing good library money spent for "poky old books" on religion and philosophy; while the reader of "solid literature" is pained to see the concessions made to the perverted tastes of readers of "silly novels." All these classes have their rights in the library, and a right to the expres

sion of their opinions. The librarian is a servant of the people, who are really his employers. He is a literary caterer, whose business is to find out what the public-his public-want, and to supply this want, within reasonable limits, to the best of his ability and resources. His business in buying books is to buy the best of those that are offered; not merely those that are best in themselves, or best for him, but those that are best for his library and his public-those that will give the most satisfaction and the most profit to the community that supports the library and him. This does not mean that he is not to direct readers and raise the standards of taste whenever he can; he should try to lead and guide in the right direction-but he should not be too keen to act as guide, nor keep so far ahead of the procession as to be out of sight of it.

The printed aids to the librarian in his task of book-selection are so varied and numerous that their very abundance is an obstacle to their usefulness. They begin to appear before a book is born; they proclaim its advent; they accompany its birth; they attend the various processes of its introduction to the public and its acceptance or rejection by the world. Sometimes they continue after it is dead ; occasionally a belated review appears of a book so long in peaceful desuetude that no one remembers that it ever lived. brarians must sometimes be wearily amused at reading enthusiastic laudations of "epoch-making" books that have long existed in their consciousness only as unvenerated "plugs."

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The thought suggests itself that the usefulness of these printed aids to bookselection might be much increased if some practicable method could be found for classifying them and keeping them in some simple and orderly arrangement. For the sake of illustration, let it be supposed that a librarian has a lot of convenient envelopes, cach endorsed with the title of a new book, starting with some printed item when it is first announcedwhen it, like a new planet, "swims into his ken." These announcements could be made up, to some extent, from the cir

culars and advertisements of publishers; but these are not at all uniform in style, are often indefinite as to the character of a book, and are incomplete. Better results would doubtless be had by taking the regular advance announcement lists given by some of the leading literary journals preceding the regular spring and fall publishing seasons. The best of these lists are systematically and accurately prepared with uniform style of entry, classification showing kind of book, title, name of author and publisher, illustrations, if any, size and price; and the lists are substantially complete, so that they afford a survey of all the forthcoming American books, and reprints of English books, that are likely to appear between one list and its successor. The cutting of these lists into slips and pasting them upon convenient cards and distributing them into their envelopes might be the first step toward this "working bibliography," an ample foundation on which to build. It will, of course, be objected that such an apparatus would be too complicated and expensive-far beyond the dreams of avarice of the average librarian: but we are not now considering that part of the problem-rather, trying to see what results it might lead to. Into each envelope might go, next, items of information as to when the book was to appear; printed items of interest regarding it or indicating its importance: clippings from the better class of trade-lists and bulletins of new books; or any penciled memoranda that might be worth. making and saving. In a word, the envelope would become the repository of compact and easily accessible information about that particular book; and it might contain also more private pencil jottings, such as "Mrs Jones asks for this," "Dr Pundit praises this author," "Miss Squeams thinks this is horrid," and similar illuminating intimations for the librarian's quiet hour. The result would be a collection of what might be called foundation knowledge about new books, in which each book could be recorded and considered by itself, without the confusion of impressions resulting from at

tempts to use the same material unassorted and in the mass. The librarian and assistants would at least know that a certain book was coming, and, in a general way, what sort of book it was to be; and the sometimes mortifying effect of the ingenuous answer to an inquiring reader, "Never heard of it," would largely disappear. New information could be added at any time, and inquiries quickly answered by turning to these Easy Reference Envelopes, which might appropriately be endorsed "Inquire within for whatever is now known" about the particular book referred to.

The most important part of all, and the most difficult to consider in limits of time and space, is the matter embraced under the general term of "Opinions," including "book reviewing" or "noticing," "book booming" or "puffing," and other minor categories. Into the great field of literary criticism in general it is not intended here to go; the principles of literary criticism are matters not for a paragraph in a brief address, but for a book or an extended and finished essay, and these are presumably as familiar to librarians as to other classes of cultivated readers. What most concerns the librarian as book-buyer is the practical appraisal of books-something which will aid him most in grappling with the problem of the "Eternal OR" with which this paper was begun. In this appraisal, as practiced in literary journalism, comes first what is known as the "Review," and next what is usually called the "Notice." The terms are rather loosely used; indeed, the one is often only a briefer form of the other. The Review is more extended, and goes more deliberately into a description of the book, with a more or less careful consideration of its defects and merits; the "notice" is usually confined to description mainly-though in cases where approval or condemnation. may be safely and unqualifiedly expressed, this is often done tersely and emphatically; and the value of the opinion, unsupported by the citations of evidence that would be expected in a long review, will depend on the character of

the journal or the writer giving it. The ideal appraisal of a book, for the purposes of a librarian, would be somewhat like the analysis of a chemist, formulated in the verdict, "Here is what you gave me; here is what I find it to contain," signed "Helmholtz, Chemist," or "Hazlitt, Literary Appraiser." But such shortcut processes as are possible for insensate matter can hardly be applied to that liv ing thing, that something next to the human soul, a Book.

In one respect, it is true, the really authoritative book review should resemble a chemical analysis: it should be the product of an expert, and bear the warrant of his name-the reputable historical scholar for the new book in the field of history, the biologist for new researches into the origin and mystery of life, the geologist for geology, and so on down the list. Of course, this method of treating books in the domain of exact knowledge, of science properly so called, will not apply to books of a very different class-to poetry and fiction and some other categories whose appeal is to the taste and judgment and experience of readers, rather than to exact knowledge or established principles of science. In these cases, so long as taste is something not to be disputed about, opinions must continually differ. The most we can reasonably ask is that criticism in these fields shall represent a taste that is cultivated and that rests upon such canons of literary art as may fairly be called established. It may properly be required of all reviews in serious literary journals that they be intelligent and impartial, without desire either to praise or blame, but only to be just; they should be instructive and informing to the reader; they should be interesting, or as interesting as the subject may reasonably allow; they should be appreciative and sympathetic rather than destructive and severe, not savage for the sake of appearing smart; they should be honest,-as free from unworthy motives of gain or profit as a librarian is free from a desire to steal the books entrusted to his care. Fairness and disinterestedness must be

required of all reviewers; the editor is responsible for their selection, but not for their opinions. "Tell us exactly what you think of this book-its merits and defects, and all about it that you think worth while," are the instructions, expressed or understood, sent out with every book that goes to a reviewer from the editor of any literary journal worthy of the name. Even such details as the amount of space to be given a book are left largely to the reviewer to be decided according to his judgment of the book's importance after examination. The competent and experienced reviewer will rightly expect reasonable latitude in such matters; and he will rightly expect also freedom from editorial interference with his opinions and conclusions. With this freedom and confidence goes also the assumption of good faith and fairness on the part of the reviewer. He must write with a full sense of his responsibility; he must not say things he is not prepared to defend and prove if necessary; and he must be personally disinterested. Reviewers who, whatever their other qualifications, make their reviews occasions for "log-rolling" for friends or "getting even" with enemies quickly find themselves undesired by the discerning editor. It is not only a matter of conscience-the whole existence of a literary journal is based on its reputation for honesty and fairness; its obligation is always to its readers, and its chief value is given by the hold it has on their esteem and confidence. A journal with any pretense to influence and standing in the literary world could find no shorter road to suicide than by forfeiting the respect and confidence of its readers by sordid methods and unworthy aims. It is sometimes fancied that advertisers-publishers of books-exert a pressure upon literary journals adverse to their literary independence. This would mean that the publishers-who are usually shrewd and intelligent men-would try to destroy the one thing that gives the journal influence with its readers and hence value for their advertisements; and publishers worthy of the name have not only too much shrewd