Spicewood Springs Branch, Austin, Texas

Back when our academic imprint was located in the Flatiron building, I used to delight in the grumpy old building's little quirks. The Flatiron's specialness ran the gamut from weird (the shape of the building lent to some awkward and tortured office configurations) to whimsical (the defunct mail chutes, the hidden architectural details we would spy when the drop ceilings were removed for some-odd maintenance). My absolute favorite tic was how the building behaved on windy days. It didn't rock--it's a sturdy little skyscraper that rests like an old anvil parting the riverflow of traffic between 5th avenue and Broadway). But it did complain with a sort of creaking and groaning most commonly associated with large ships rolling on temperamental waters. It would even take on a sort of cadence, as though under an undulating power, and you could almost imagine the Flatiron was a ship gently rocking down Broadway toward Soho, Chinatown, Battery Park, where it would finally break free into the bay and become the galleon it was always meant to be.

One of the meeting rooms even has an old New Yorker cartoon posted where the Flatiron is depicted as a ship, and I always wondered if the cartoonist ever actually heard the building from this inside on a windy day. I couldn't find the cartoon in question (I am almost positive it was a New Yorker cover), but I did see that the Flatiron was featured as an icebreaker ship in a much more recent edition (2015). As the cartoonist says, it "yearns to be drawn as a ship." If only they knew! 

I walked in, took a brief tour, and a set up shop at the Spicewood Branch library in Austin, Texas, as soon as it opened this morning at 10 a.m. I am not sure if it is the wind, the waking air conditioning system, or some other cause, but it has a similar creak and groan quirk, though it lacks the consistency of sound that suggests a ship. It is more like the library has been rustled from its slumber and is stretching its long frame to prepare for the day. It is easy to think of a library as a living thing, housing so much human knowledge, imagination, and memory. The sounds have since ceased, securing the illusion of a waking giant, now fully up and operational, all clicks and tics since settled.

When I first arrived, I made a quick round of the place to get a sense of its layout. I immediately found the kids and teens sections (they have their own sitting areas as well as stacks) and loved that they'd decorated with large stuffed animals on top of each row of books, my favorite of which was the line of penguin sentries all on watch, no doubt for shenanigans. I noticed this decorating trend at one of the Houston branches as well (Vinson, I believe) though they put their animals out while I was there (afternoonish) and a bit haphazardly. It is a sweet touch, and a far cry from the children's section of the libraries from my childhood (here is your section, here is your table, look it is small just for you, now sit down be quiet do not tear the books do not lick the books). I like the inclination of catering to the client--it's probably a softening of our culture toward children in general (no more tyrants hissing behind a desk), but I think it is good change, regardless of the losses. When your clientele is a drooling, diapered maniac hopped up on juice and youth, you're going to see some damage.

As with the other modern libraries I've visited, Spicewood has that old-new 50s feel with oblique angles, fresh and dynamic color schemes, and plenty of room to cater to the needs of its community. I like the black stacks in particular (it's a sassy, different take on how a library should look, as though your brother's friend Greg--a Gamer's Gamer--was in charge of the decor and painted it black, much like his soul) and I especially like the Librarian Viewing Area, which could be seen exiting the kid's section and heading toward the water fountains and bathrooms. All the doors say Staff Only, etc., but the walls are windows so you can see them all in their glory, librarianing. 

The Librarian Viewing Area is a delight to me because of how the Anschutz Science Library was set up back at KU. The librarians had their own little den around the corner from where we did the dirty business of stacks maintenance (organizing books to be put on trucks) and circulation. Librarians did not go up there. No no no. They stayed in their area, around the corner, and you've never seen crosser expressions if you went back there, even if you had a reason, because NO KIDS ALLOWED. I would try to charm them out, though, with baked goods (the key lime cheesecake was a smash) and the like, but usually they would just emerge from the corner, divebomb the treat, and retreat back to their fort.

Don't get me wrong--I liked our librarians, what little I knew about them, but ultimately they were unknowable creatures--they did their thing, and their thing was far away from where we worked, even though it was, as I said, just around the corner. If part of the workstudy experience was to absorb some knowledge by association, what we managed to pick up was second, second hand. So I love Spicewood's viewing arena--you can't escape, librarians! We see you dewey decimaling and perpetuating the government docs. And it is great. 

While the chairs are hard, they are weirdly still comfortable, and I love where my little workstation is situated. I am looking at another part of the library (a reading alcove) that sits closest to the trees. It is a lovely area and I suspect you could lose hours here before you realized it. Since last night was a long night (more on that later), I may make a short trip of it, but I will be sad to leave this library in particular. It's a long haul, do-your-dissertation-here kind of space, creaky bones and all.

I did find one problem: The wifi. I haven't had issues uploading images up until this point. Now that I am at another branch, it seems to be working a bit better, so here's hoping it is not an Austin-thing!