"Free for All" | Weirdness in the library

"Free for All: Oddballs, Geeks, and Gangstas in the Public Library"

Don Borchert

Virgin Books, $21.95

Anyone can sign up for a library card. Anyone can check out hundreds of dollars' worth of books and DVDs. Anyone can sit in a warm, safe library.

And "anyone," according to assistant librarian Don Borchert in "Free for All: Oddballs, Geeks and Gangstas in the Public Library," often includes "the homeless, the mentally ill, occasional pedophiles, Internet junkies, unattended children down to the age of 2, con artists, thieves, beggars, cultish home-schoolers, and people who are in general angry with every level of state and federal government."

"The library is the dullest place in the world," notes Borchert, "91 percent of the time."

That more exciting 9 percent takes up most of Borchert's memoir of his dozen years in the Los Angeles library system, from serving as a bouncer for the unruly after-school crowd to staffing the reference desk (where one patron balks at his new library card because the number includes two consecutive sixes, an abbreviated mark of the devil. "Just the sixes by themselves are unlucky," the man explains. "Even one. Two of them together, whoa.")

Borchert's deadpan and sometimes profane wit (expect plenty of f-bombs) provides the occasional out-loud laugh with his inside peek into an institution people take for granted. "Another patron was stunned that she needed a library card at all. She showed me a fistful of other cards she already had to illustrate how ridiculous it all was. Couldn't one of these work? Maybe an ATM card, a supermarket card?"

He informs her these cards are not all linked, though some readers may be surprised at how much information libraries do keep. The computer system, for example, allows for cautionary notes on a patron's account, highlighting if they're regular late returners — or likely to explode in rage.

As an assistant — he lacks a master's degree in library science and has no plans to pursue one — Borchert is detachedly bemused by wild patrons, career-climbing senior librarians and government bureaucracy.

Rather than a chronological memoir, Borchert ties experiences and characters into themed chapters ("Overdue Fines and Fees," "The Last Day of School"). This works best when he focuses on an interesting staff member or patron, such as the elderly woman who is so dedicated to bringing homemade goodies that she sends a batch by cab when she is sick. Other chapters are more tenuously constructed from a series of anecdotes.

Borchert's main limitation as a narrator is that he never ventures beyond the library to discover what happens to the characters he introduces. Many chapters end without a satisfying resolution, as patrons walk out the door and never return.

For library regulars, though, it's a glimpse behind the shelves and checkout counter. Librarians are optimists, Borchert notes, because "there is a belief that once you begin to open books, you will become a better person. You are inching toward the promised land, page by page."

Stephanie Dunnewind, a former Seattle Times newsfeatures reporter, is pursuing a master's in library science at the University of Washington.