The library as museum
Sowmya Ravindranath
When I asked a group of middle graders what they thought of a museum and how similar or different it is to a library, I got an eclectic set of responses — from functional similarities of both operating under visiting hours to deeper perspectives on both being keepers of memories and histories. An exercise to know about their experiences of museums revealed that a majority of them understood the merit of being present and observant in a museum only belatedly.
Response from a student
Photos courtesy: Sowmya Ravindranath
Each academic year, the school’s library program is designed to highlight one aspect of the library. The year we focused on ‘Shared Spaces’, we celebrated experiences of coming together as a community and engaged in conversations around individual and collective identities, caste, and representation. The following year, the attempt was to bring attention to the archival quality of the library. A school that is over four decades old, stores in its shelves, more than just books and stories. That a library is a repository of texts, memories, and initiatives intrigued my students.
Collection and curation
Tracing some of the first books to be catalogued and shelved, we set out to explore how the collection had grown over the years. In the back issues of the in-house magazine, we found reviews of books that were added to the collection that year, and subsequently found a few of them in the shelves. We looked at the earlier system of borrowing cards and connected with a few former students who had borrowed particular books. The movement of time and its effect on the collection became central to our conversations. This was an invitation to look at the library as an archive of thoughts, initiated and curated over four decades.
Book inserts used in the old borrowing system
Reading and browsing
This shifting of lens allowed my students to engage in the library a little more deeply. Their browsing seemed more purposeful, intrigued by the idea of encountering something special in the shelves. There was a layer of reverence added to their relationship with the library; a reverence fuelled by curiosity.
Just as a museum calls you to slow down and observe, the library became a space where children explored their capacity to stay with their self, and shelf. To connect these dots of webbed ideas, we set out to read a book together over the next few months. Uncovering a chapter each week, we read the novel From the Mixed-up Files of Mrs. Basil E Frankweiler by EL Konigsburg. Set in the Metropolitan Museum of Art (The Met), New York, the book recounts the adventures of runaway siblings Claudia and Jamie Kincaid. The adventurous spirit of the rebellious characters who hide out in a museum had my students hooked from the first page. As we read about the Kincaid siblings visiting the different galleries in the museum, we traced their movement on a map. Comparing maps from the book and The Met website, we observed the changes that were made to the layout of the present day. The characters’ entry into specific galleries was marked with immersing in books associated with the topic or art form. From Renaissance art to Egyptian civilization, we set up book displays to get familiar with the museum’s collection, keeping pace with the characters’ explorations.
Books displayed when the characters entered the Egyptian Wing
The curation drew them in, sneaking history and non-fiction books into their reading and swinging open doors of receptivity for reluctant readers. Days leading up to their library class were brimming with an eagerness — to get back to the book and continue on the adventures, experienced vicariously. One of the children remarked that she can’t bear to think that the Kincaid siblings will continue on their exploits without her; she urged to get back to the book soon. The most rewarding factor of reading a book with a group, over a few months is the collective excitement it builds; like a slow brew it settles into your thinking and bubbles over every now and then. When children are as eager as they are, to stop them from reading ahead or peeking in is bittersweet. Despite their wishes and friendly threats of acquiring the book, the children stayed the course and waited for the book to be unravelled, week on week. The plot had us at the edge of our seats and the lead characters’ temporal quandaries gave us much to deliberate upon. However, it was the resolve and resourcefulness of the characters that sowed a seed of wonder — about museums and self-study. A few weeks later, a museum visit was organized for one of the grades. From the Mixed–up Files of Mrs. Basil E Frankweiler had not only inspired the children to observe if there were any possible hide-out spots in the museum, but also made them a tad more present, to go through a collection. Some of them came back and revealed that they had paid closer attention to insignias and the back of display objects.
Setting up a museum
In the words of art critic Jerry Saltz, ‘Museums are wormholes to other worlds’. Wormholes are exactly what we set out to create. As an ode to the months of reading and reckoning, we planned to set up our own museum, and thus Museum of Bookish Things was born. The central idea of this museum, in an exhibition format, was to host a platform to showcase objects that are inspired by books. This was an invitation to create and interpret — objects culled from a process of imagination. The brief was simple — they should look for inspiration from books that count as their most memorable. Once they navigated the political significance of choice, the children settled into creation mode. Working solo and in small groups, they found tools, items, and scenes from books and shaped them into life. Pieces in wood, clay, metal, paper, and cardboard came announcing their stories, as they were written by the authors and as they were interpreted by the makers.
Objects and books on display at the Museum of Bookish Things
Keeping to the handmade theme, this experience made room for a critical study of the book, in a more visceral way. The flow of the creative process facilitated a conversance of the reader and the creator. As they set out to create objects, children had to deliberate on how the character used them and how the object feels in their hand, therefore allowing a more intimate understanding of the book. What emerged from this exercise was a rich and remarkable collection of bookish things — objects from the fantasy landscape, items from realistic realms, scenes and scenarios of novels, representation of food in fiction, depictions of war memorabilia and much more. The bookish things were also maps of personal strivings — what was put out was what was gleaned and pursued. Paired with their respective books, objects came with little notes describing their significance in the plot, making the whole process of viewing cohesive and interesting.
The Lemony Snicket book series offered opportunities to collaborate with friends
A display of this kind meant that there in nothing frigid or indifferent; everyone is drawn in. Open for a week, the Museum of Bookish Things created a buzz in school. Each grade visited the museum, entering different worldviews and engaging with the idea of discovering something new. This was also a call to slow down — to observe and interact with the presented perspective. Beckoned by the myriad conceptions of wonder, the museum offered something for everyone. Books related to the objects on display were now in the limelight; wanted and waitlisted, the demand to borrow them skyrocketed. A heightened sense of borrowing can only mean that the library was a firmament of interest.
Objects presented personal interpretations of students
Library: a portal to wonder
To call a library a place for solitude or quietude can limit the potential of a vibrant space that can reverberate with a sense of community. The Museum of Bookish Things was a fortunate reminder that the pursuit of learning doesn’t always come solo or quietly. Right from making a poster and handling announcements to setting up an aesthetic display and packing up, the museum was completely handled by the children. The days preceding the showcase was replete with intentional exuberance and book joy. In all this, what remained in the wakeful state is a sense of wonder. Wonder that can be explored with active engagement, wonder that is explored with questioning, wonder that is playful, wonder that is purposeful, wonder that brings joy and learning. I hope my students will continue to seek it.
The author is a library educator at The Valley School, Bangalore. She is deeply interested in making libraries safe spaces for children to explore their inner world and outer world. She can be reached at sowmya.ravindranath@thevalleyschool.info.