A true Pageturner

Oxford’s main commodities are, without question, education, scholarship, knowledge, and pedagogy.

The Bodleian Library's Mistress of Admissions

Who would have thought that the famed designer of the British Red Telephone boxes, a staple of the tourist photograph, (second only in popularity to posing in front of the guards at Buckingham Palace) would have had such an instrumental impact on Oxford.

It is true, as we learned today, from the Master (or rather Mistress) of Library Admissions at Oxford University’s Bodleian Library. Sir Giles Gilbert Scott, designer of the red tele boxes also designed the new Bodleian Library in the 1930s, showcasing his ziggurat style and functionally fashionable use of space.

Every history of the Bod, however brief, must begin with its namesake, Thomas Bodley, Elizabeth I’s Military Ambassador to the Netherlands. Bodley’s fall from 17th century political grace led to his rapid extraction from London to Oxford, where he founded the modern University research library. (Of course, it has to be a research library, so sayeth our hostess, else it becomes a museum, and we have plenty of those!)

Bodley still held enough power by 1610 to convince the London Publisher’s Guild to send the University a copy of every book published.Today the Bod holds more than 10 million books… and stores them in multiple underground vaults around the city, which often impinges upon their goal of delivering any requested book within two hours of the request.

Library rules include prohibitions of “lending books, defacing books, bringing in Starbucks, water bottles, and cheese sandwiches.” Oh, and one more thing: you can’t set fire to the collections.

Yes, that’s right, we all swore, on our lives, our livelihoods, and our graves the following:
“I hereby undertake not to remove from the library, or to mark, deface or injure in any way, any volume, document, or other object belonging to it or in its custody; not to bring into the Library or kindle therein any fire or flame, and not to smoke in the Library; and I promise to obey all rules of the Library.”

For the record, I believe that was the first time I have promised not to be a pyromaniac. The presumed fate of one who breaks this oath will unquestionably receive the fate of King Charles I. Charles, in two entirely disconnected, but mutually entertaining acts, asked to borrow a book from the library (and was properly refused), and then promptly lost both his crown and his head.

So, I will refrain from both pyromania and caffemania, and will solemnly swear to never, ever, lose my head.

This term promised to be a page turner.

The game’s afoot,

ej

Wednesday, April 21

Between the lions (or rather, Grotesques and Gargoyles)

Oxford, UK