Beauty and the Beast: A Librarian's Fantasy

My favorite Disney film has always been Beauty and the Beast. Always. It has been since the very first time I saw its incredible opening. I don't think I can even forget the misty, mysterious music that reminds me of a waterfall, and what a marvelous opening landscape! And the stained glass was an inspired touch--the classic (and classy) version of stop-motion, near-minimalist storytelling. In my opinion, those moments sum up a perfect opening scene.

Yet for all the perfection of the movie's introduction, there are two things from the story itself that always left a deep impression on me: the bookstore and the Beast's library. Yes, even as a grade schooler, I always adored those enticing bookshelves and could perfectly sympathize with Belle's fixation on that one perfect book that the bookseller finally gave her. That is actually why Belle has always been my favorite Disney princess. I've never been a huge princessy girl, but the idea of the book-loving girl from a "poor provincial town" who was swept up into an adventure straight out of her favorite fairy tales always caught my imagination.

Photographed by Jason Mrachina and retrieved from Flickr.com
Law Library-Iowa State Capitol

And what was one of the major revelations of the Beast's goodness? I don't know about you, but, aside from the famous ballroom scene, I was always captivated by the Beast's gift of a library. A magnificent library. A glorious, dazzling library with more books than Belle could ever read. In other words, a paradise. And the picture that I have right here is just about the most perfect image of the Beast's library in the real world that I can find--huge, glorious, lit up with chandeliers and towering windows, and furnished with spiraling staircases and latticed balconies. I'd love to find a nook to read here, as long as it were in a corner somewhere. True, it's somewhat pretentious and a bit too fancy in some ways, but I can't help but love the look of it! And it is, fittingly enough, a law library. The Iowa State Capital Law Library, to be exact. I love novels, but this is a place of learning.

However, the fact that it is so pretentious yet simultaneously inviting to me does suggest something about the nature of libraries. Notice the progression of Belle's growth. She didn't immediately start at this big fancy library (which undoubtedly would have intimidated her were it in her hometown from the beginning); rather, she began the story at a bookseller with limited numbers of books. Presumably she learned to love books and stories and learning one humble book at a time. Perhaps she started reading one of her father's books about mechanics and inventions or something like that. It was only when she was older--to whatever age she is in the story--that her hunger for learning and stories grew insatiable. She read and reread the same books, partly out of a love for those stories, but also because she had nothing else; she came into the shop often to ask if anything new had come in (remember that scene?). Yet I want to emphasize again that she had to learn to enjoy one book at a time and to learn about the pleasure of learning almost in bits and pieces. I propose that had she entered the Beast's library at a much younger age, she would have been overwhelmed, intimidated, and scared off because there were too many books.

The reason I wonder about this is because of the current situations in schools in which children do not read. There are multitudes of reasons for not reading, I am sure, but among them are the following: too much homework, the demands of social life, extracurricular activities and sports, friends, the social stigma of being a nerd, and the fear of being too stupid. Reading is often seen either as a smart or an uncool activity. I don't know if there is much of an in between status. Kids tend to fall into three categories, I guess: (1) They are the readers, (2) They feel like they have not earned reading status, or (3) They have different priorities/fear social repercussions. I could be wrong, but that is the impression I have gotten.

It makes me wonder how we are structuring our school libraries, though. Are we designing our libraries specifically for those who feel that they aren't smart enough to read, can't read, or would lose social status if they read? Are we designing our school libraries like the Beast's opulent library or like the humble, inviting bookshop? Is there a way to change the bookshop style so that readers don't seem "odd," "peculiar," or "funny"? I don't know the answer to this exactly, but in one of my English Teaching classes, I studied Kelly Gallagher's teaching style, and he wrote something that really struck me. He said that we as English teachers should not use the "Grecian Urn" approach, by which he meant that we as teachers should not exude an air of perfection. We should not show our students flawless models--that just scares them off. It is better to work alongside them and show them how to write, starting at the messy brainstorming and working all the way to a refined piece of writing.



Photographed by buskfyb and retrieved at Flickr.com
Sittegruppe i Røyken vgs. skolebibliotek

I propose that we adopt Kelly Gallagher's methods for school libraries as well. As librarians or librarians-in-training, we also are teachers. Our students are all of the students in the school, and they do not need their first image of a good library to be like the Beast's library or the Iowa law library. Those are beautiful and valuable and precious, but students need to have personal experience with smaller, more relevant, and friendly libraries. It is only after students learn that books and learning are precious for them personally that they can see the Beast's library not only with awe but with delight and eagerness. And if we can show them a way to be involved without sacrificing their other interests, our school libraries will flourish as well.