Free To All

Abigail A. Van Sylck's book, Free To All is an exhaustive (if not exhausting) look at the the slew of libraries,and how they were accepted and used by patrons, donated by Andrew Carnegie between the years 1886-1920. The book is divided into six sections, each of which has its own unique and important story to tell. Two vital themes to emerge in the book are the politics involved in giving, and how patrons interacted with different public library spaces.

One problem I had with the book, though it may have been my own problem, was that it was difficult to understand how people actually interacted with these spaces, and how the improper space was often detrimental to both librarians and patrons. There are so many diagrams of library floor plans in Free To All that it is difficult to process them all properly. How were reading rooms and posture related photographs supposed to encourage "middle-class behavior"? Questions like this still confuse me. Such libraries were built under the presumption that Andrew Carnegie wanted to give penniless stiffs the opportunity to pull themselves up from their social standing and rise as he once did. I am still unsure how designs that were supposedly aesthetically unfriendly to the working class would keep them out without an outright ban on people who do not earn much money. While I understand that certain collections were often kept out of the general stacks, I do not see how library design could truly discourage the working class from taking advantage of "palatial" spaces. Overall, the tone and subjects depicted in the book seem somewhat fractured in nature, and could likely have been made into a number of different works.

One of the most interesting, illuminating, and relevant topics in the book has to do with the social meaning of libraries between 1890-1920. In Detroit, when Andrew Carnegie tried to provide the city with a central library and several neighborhood branches, the public erupted in opposition. While originally proposed in 1901, public opposition to the libraries was so great that the resolution was not passed until 1910. "In 'Joy on the Golf Links,' Carnegie was depicted in full highland dress, approaching the walls of the city with a library building in hand. While the response of Detroit's taxpayers is not shown, Carnegie's arrival prompts four of Detroit's millionaires (one of whom bears a strong resemblance to Henry Ford) to dance with glee near their suburban estates. The implication is clear; the animosity towards Carnegie's offer was fueled by concerns that the institution would be shaped by the agenda of the cultural elite" (Slyck, 77). This quote neatly sums up the conflict presented through most of the first half of the book: elites vs. the lower classes. While there may have been working class opposition to elitist rule, it reminds me of arguments made by Bill Cosby--that it is not "black" to pick up a book and read it. I'm sure plenty of working class people were appreciative of the opportunity to use a public library, just as there are plenty of African-American students who are eager to read books. Elitism versus the working class has been the central political debate of the last decade. The last three American presidential elections (including the 2008 contest) have been based upon this concept's relevance or irrelevance.

Another interesting subject in Slyck's book is the topic of the feminization of the library profession. Such feminization was favored by prominent librarians such as John Dana and Melvil Dewey. Their attitudes were based on the stereotypes of the female disposition, but they were influential stereotypes all the same. The library boom that Carnegie funded served to accelerate this trend. "Most important, perhaps, his philanthropy augmented the conditions that supported the entry of women into librarianship. By funding a dramatic increase in the number of public libraries in the United States, the Carnegie program amplified the demand for quality library staff" (165). After the book explains at length how changing desks supposedly made the library into an efficient book exchanging space, it also explains how desks were somehow feminized. While I understand that the desks of men and women were engineered to be for either sex according to early twentieth-century standards, I do not fully buy into the concept. Even the caption in the primary source photograph on page 171 remains gender neutral. While I do not think such gender-centric claims are false, they do seem to me to be a bit of a stretch.

Abagail Van Slyck's book makes many claims that I found controversial and deserve further exploration, but it is ultimately a well-researched tome that provides analysis of how various people and areas interacted with libraries. The book goes on to detail how children interacted with library spaces (For example, libraries made some rural children nervous, while urban immigrant children saw the library as a refuge). It details the difference in the significance of libraries to large urban and small local communities. All in all, Slyck's book is a highly detailed, challenging read, even if it raises claims that occasionally raise eyebrows.