So I haven’t posted in a while, and I apologize, but I have a good reason. I have a new job! A brand new shiny library job. And it’s fantastic. It is amazing to be doing something I love. I suppose I’ll be forced to admit now that grad school and all the hard work was worth it.

I now work in a small public library with a staff that has very progressive views on libraries, librarianship and the role technology is playing in the warp speed changes in them. It is an exciting place to be. I am sure I will have plenty to tell you about what we’re doing as I settle in, and of course, the anecdotes that come with working in a public library. With a bunny named Whisper.

For now, though, some food for thought. A while ago I picked up a used copy of The Shipping News by Annie Proulx. In the back pages of the book I found this yellow card from a 1997 United Airlines flight to Florida. What strikes me about this most, other than the fact that the Dinbergs were Vegans in 1997, is that they were on the way to Florida. The Shipping News is a story about a man restarting his life with his two young daughters in Newfoundland. One of the Dinbergs decided to read a story that takes place in a barren, desolate land while on the way to, or while in Florida, one of the most lush landscapes in the country. It snows in May in Newfoundland. Snow. In May. But then I started to think about this. Does where I am have anything to do with what I read? Do my reading choices change from place to place? Maybe there is something to be said for reading about a rugged land and lifestyle while lying on the beach or poolside in Florida. Opposites attract, right?

And as I write this, and glance at the yellow card, I realize that no where on the card does it say anything about Florida. I’ve made the whole thing up, it seems. Daydreamer, active imagination. But I wonder. What did Dinsberg think about Quoyle, Sunshine and Bunny? And what about the shipping news? I suppose the bigger picture here is that the book sitting beside me had a life before it came into mine. It traveled, went on airplanes, gave Dinsberg sadness and joy in turn. Book as object, not just what is contained between the pages.

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