Shedding Some Light

There are some things we don’t think too much about unless they are done poorly. People who are always on time are an excellent example. Generally you don’t hear about so-and-so, who is awesome because he is so punctual, but it doesn't go both directions. If you are always behind schedule, chances are people have noticed. It could be subtler than punctuality—maybe you are at a new grocery store and something just feels…off, but you can’t put your finger on it.  Bad lighting is one of those things. 

Lighting has come a long way since someone discovered the advantages to cutting a hole in the side of a wall, but despite the modern technology that allows for halogen, fluorescent, or LED bulbs, natural lighting is still on top. A basic window beats a light fixture even on its worst day. These days, architects have their pick of a plethora of window types when designing a building. There is the fixed window, the double-hung sash, the single-hung sash, the horizontal sliding sash, a casement, or the better known bay, skylight or thermal windows. Everyone likes a different kind, but most people would prefer some range of natural lighting to a dark, windowless cave.

The word “window” comes from the Old Norse word “vindauga”, a combination of the word “vind” meaning wind and “auga” meaning eye. Back them, windows lacked glass, and they allowed in not only the light but the wind as well. Modern windows in the Unites States tend to have glass panels, but the idea behind a “wind-eye” is still relevant today.  At schools, notorious for their fluorescent lighting, cheery windows shine helpful rays on the pages of books held by young readers. In the workplace, a window office is coveted and the hierarchy of the office is easily discovered by checking to see who has the best window/wall ratio.

At the brick solid public library on Queen Street, the windows play a particularly important role in the purpose of the building.  On approaching the front entrance, two rows of large windows mirror each other on either side of the front doors, pleasing in their symmetry and bold size. The front doors are large panes of glass, unbroken by grills, and held together only by their white casings, to allow for maximum possible light penetration. Above the doors, a window in the shape of a half circle dominates the viewers’ attention, and the grills on this window radiate from the center outward, mimicking the rays of the sun.  Upon entering the library, one immediately notices the skylights, which pierce through the ceiling, adding another layer of light to a space already bathed in it. The reading areas—some desks, some squishy chairs—are spaced out along the edges of the walls by the windows, or clumped together under the skylights.  Libraries are rarely open late, and this one is no exception. There is rarely a need for additional lightning in the main sections of the library (the exception being the genealogical reference room, which tends to be a lonely space)—the library is open during the daylight hours, when avid readers can take advantage of the best possible light by which to read. 

Upper library windows shed light on their bookshelves at St. John's College. (http://gallery.nen.gov.uk/asset73640_1169-.html)

 Without the books, however, the windows would useless. The thousands of books housed in the public library need to be seen to be experienced. The “wind-eye” serves the human eye in this purpose and they are dependent on one another. A person would be hard pressed to find a library lacking the combination package of books and windows.

And finally, as much as books need light to serve their purpose (for they are not only read by but also written by the stuff)—they also need a proper home. It would never do to just throw them in piles upon the floor, how would a person ever find anything?

Which brings us to the fascinating story of the history of the bookcase. The tale dates back to a time when books were becoming more available to the common person. When they were still written by hand and very rare, books were tenderly stored in small boxes that could safeguard them against the elements. Religious figures such as priests or rabbis kept them safe in churches and temples, but as the volume of books increased in the world, it became less practical to store them in chests. It was especially the advent of the Gutenberg printing press in the 15^th century that created the need for the storage of larger quantities of books. In monasteries, monks began to run out of space in their carrels and began piling them up and up until the need to reorganize them became dire. Many times books were chained to their shelves to keep over-zealous book lovers from running off with them without permission. Traditionally, books were piled one on top of the other, spines facing in on shelves that grew vertically from floor to ceiling. To identify books with spines facing inward, pictures or words were sometimes written on the thick of the pages which faced outward. Later on, if the books were old or valuable, there might have been transparent glass casing enclosing the shelves. 

Painted books with spines facing inward from the collection of Odorico Pillone. (http://www.theparisreview.org/blog/2012/02/08/shelf-conscious/)

 Early bookcases were frequently made with wood such as oak, and were carefully carved into objects of beauty. Modern day bookshelves have little in common appearance-wise with their distant cousins of the 15^th century. Today libraries house thousands, sometimes millions of books that must be properly catalogs and shelved. Mobile aisle shelving isn’t much to look at, but the system doesn’t waste any space either. The bookcases can roll apart from one another, eliminating the need for large, static shelves that take up copious amounts of room. 

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Like the books and the windows, the humble bookcase is an invaluable and often overlooked aspect of a public library. Working together, books, their bookcases, and the windows that light them create a public space for the entertainment and education of people everywhere.