The Public Library

Today I went to the San Francisco Main Branch of the Public Library. A lot of people complain about the building, but I like it. It is very airy and spacious, and even the homeless people wandering around it seem to belong. I do agree with the complaint that it hasn't got enough shelf space. I miss the days of the old stacks where you could get lost for hours in the midst of some off-the-wall topic like topiary.

You can't look for a specific book in the library either. Let me clarify: you can look for a specific book, but there is always a chance it is supposedly on the shelf but not actually there, or that it is completely missing. What you can do is wander up and down the aisles and pick out interesting-looking works, and you don't feel obligated to read them simply because you paid for them. You just have to return them. Today, having suffered over the weekend from a healthy bout of depression, I picked up a couple of cheesy self-help books and researched "What to Look for in an Iron" in a Consumer Reports Guide. I realize that ironing is not considered a clinical treatment for depression, but it helps me and my old iron died.

I used to belong to Mechanic's Institute, but I rarely get downtown any more. Mechanic's is geared towards Anglophiles and the collection lacks diversity, but the books tend to stay where they belong, and you can find fun treasures, like Thesinger's the Marsh Arabs and Alexandra David Neel's My Journey to Tibet. You have to join to have access to their collection, but the noon tour on Wednesday is free. I say, check it out.