Indiana Jones and the Book on C Floor of Firestone Library

In the north of campus sits the cavernous Firestone Library: six floors stuffed with books in an impressively iceberg-ish set up. What appears to be a normal building on the surface actually extends deep in all directions underground. I would say it has something of a villains’ lair about it, as nearly all Gothic buildings with more than two basement floors do, but I can’t: It really is too beautiful for that.

Most people don’t understand why I enjoy—actually look forward to—hunting for books in Firestone Library. To those people I say: fair enough. I admit it, I sound very strange when I talk about this particular hobby of mine. You begin with a paper topic in mind, let’s say West Asiatic elements of early Greek poetry. You get some book references from your adviser, such as “The East Face of Helicon” by M.L. West, you look it up on the catalogue for its Princeton call number—some long string of letters and numbers occasionally interspersed with periods and possibly other non-alphanumeric keys—and thus far I concede it’s all very clear cut. Simple.

But this is when the exciting part happens. You see, there’s no way to know where a book is going to be located in Firestone based on its call number. Well, of course there must be, but I’ve never met anyone who understood the system. To locate your book, you can search on the library’s online database, and provided right there on the book’s catalogue entry is an icon called “Where to Find It.” A map pops up, an orange dot appears that marks the book’s location and a thin stripe trail leads from the library’s entrance to the book's location.

Time to go on an adventure. You’re bound to be more or less alone as you wander through the 70 miles worth of shelves! If you’ve left the reading rooms and study spaces behind, then you’ve left civilization behind. It’s just you and the more than 7 million books that make up Firestone.

I always like to linger. It doesn’t matter what section I’m in—whether sociology, poetry, religion or foreign languages. Sometimes it’s for the bizarre titles—someone wrote a book on that?—and sometimes it’s for the book covers. I actually have a track record of sending pictures of great book covers to my friends. Looking back on all the times I’ve gone to Firestone, I’m not sure there’s ever been a time when I didn’t leave with at least two or three more books than I intended to pick up. There are times when I feel like reading about familiar protagonists like Indiana Jones, Marco Polo or Odysseus; However, oftentimes I wandering around, searching for some rare, hidden artifact, surrounded by authors I’ve never heard of and topics I know nothing about. Who wouldn’t want to turn everyday tasks into adventures? When searching for a book in Firestone, it’s just too easy.

Late to Class

Today, I was late for class: I couldn’t find my second glove, I forgot my computer charger and had to run back to my room to get it, the printer was broken so I had to find another, and it started to rain on my way up campus. Today, I was late for class and it was the least important part of my day. 
 
Because today I also woke up, read for an hour, shared breakfast with one of my closest friends, went to two classes, caught up with a close friend over coffee, gave a tour, went to precept, ran to the U-Store to pick up a notebook and whipped cream (more on this later!), caught up on readings, watched part of a film for a class, auditioned for an interdisciplinary Italian performance scheduled for later this semester, came home to Butler College and made waffles for dinner (with whipped cream, of course!) to celebrate a successful week of classes. I then met with a friend to discuss a proposal for a student-initiated seminar and spent my evening reading books in Firestone library. My arms are too tired to turn the pages of my book. My legs are exhausted from walking. My eyelids are heavy. However, at the end of this long day, I am full of passion and excitement to know I have dedicated myself to things, people and causes that I care deeply about. 
 
As a student here, I often feel there are many different obligations competing for my attention. There are things that I have to do: coursework and assignments. Things that I want to do: extracurricular commitments, volunteer, socialize, read for pleasure. And things that I should do: go to interesting lectures, talk with my parents or support and care for my friends. All of these things are important to me, but balance is more important. 
 
I’ll be on time for class tomorrow. Till then, onward. 

Fantastic Books and Where to Find Them

My enthusiasm for the library system, including the enormous wealth of resources, databases and books is probably the nerdiest part of my personality. I have been an avid reader since my childhood, but the nearly unlimited access to all of the resources that Princeton offers never fails to spark my enthusiasm. 
 
Princeton’s library system has around 13 million holdings, including 7 million printed works, which are split between the 10 libraries on campus. Check out Michelle’s descriptions of all of them. Firestone Library, the largest library on campus, contains around 73 miles of shelves and is completely open-stack, meaning that if you want a book, you have to go find it yourself. The library has several book finders who can help you find books, but I have also spent a fair amount of time hopelessly meandering through shelves, once looking for a copy of “The Adventures of Superman” by George Lowther for a paper on George Bellows’ Dempsey and Firpo for an art history seminar, “American Realism and the Perils of Painting,” and more recently searching for Herman Khan’s “On Thermonuclear War” for a paper analyzing visual rhetorical tools in the 1964 black comedy film, “Dr. Strangelove: Or How I Learned to Love the Atomic Bomb” for a history class, “U.S. Foreign Relations.” 
 
Perhaps my enthusiasm for the libraries on campus and the resources that Princeton offers are the remnants of the voracious literary appetite that drove me, as a child, to coerce my parents into buying me multiple books on every trip to a bookstore and to carry around at least three books at all times. I found purpose and immense value in learning and understanding different modes of existence. As a student here, this enthusiasm has evolved. I now split my time reading between reading for coursework — Supreme Court Cases, the Federalist Papers, Emile Zola’s “J’accuse,” or Nikolai Gogol’s “The Nevsky Prospect” — and books for pleasure. At the moment I am reading Mikhail Bulgakov’s “The Master and Margarita” and a book that I borrowed from Chancellor Green library, “On Women: A Great Woman Analyst’s Pioneering Studies of Women — Their Psychology, Their Sexuality, Their Conditioning” by Clara M. Thomspon. 
 
Chancellor Green is one of my favorite libraries on campus because, as far as I know, there is no formal codified book system. Built in 1873, Chancellor Green served as the University’s main library until 1948 when Firestone Library was completed. However, nowadays, the shelves are made up of an amalgamation of actual library books, texts left by students and an odd textbook or two. From my observations, there is no system or order to the shelves: On one shelf, I found James Gleik’s “Chaos” beside a collection of Plato’s dialogues and Henry Kissinger’s “Diplomacy.” 
 
While Firestone attracts those driven by research, niche topics and course reading lists, I am drawn more frequently to Chancellor Green, where the shelves, cast in soft light flowing through a diadem set with stained-glass windows, contain proof of the varied, diverse and strange interests of Princeton students. It is an enormously satisfying feeling to approach research questions with the confidence that should I need additional sources, I can likely find a shelf (or three) of books related to my interests in Firestone, but in Chancellor Green, I am reminded of the intellectual diversity that defines Princeton’s student body. 
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