{"id":77198,"date":"2014-09-23T18:36:52","date_gmt":"2014-09-23T22:36:52","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/?p=77198"},"modified":"2014-09-23T18:36:52","modified_gmt":"2014-09-23T22:36:52","slug":"their-just-reward","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2014\/09\/23\/their-just-reward\/","title":{"rendered":"Their Just Reward"},"content":{"rendered":"
\"librarian\"<\/a>

Giuseppe Arcimboldo, The Librarian<\/i>, 1562.<\/p><\/div>\n

From <\/em>The Librarian at Play<\/a>, a collection of essays by Edmund Lester Pearson, published in 1911. Pearson was a librarian who wrote humor and true-crime books.<\/em><\/p>\n

I looked and beheld, and there were a vast number of girls standing in rows. Many of them wore pigtails, and most of them chewed gum.<\/p>\n

\u201cWho are they?\u201d I asked my guide.<\/p>\n

And he said: \u201cThey are the girls who wrote \u2018Lovely\u2019 or \u2018Perfectly sweet\u2019 or \u2018Horrid old thing!\u2019 on the fly-leaves of library books. Some of them used to put comments on the margins of the pages\u2014such as \u2018Served him right!\u2019 or \u2018There! you mean old cat!\u2019\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat will happen to them?\u201d I inquired.<\/p>\n

\u201cThey are to stand up to the neck in a lake of ice cream soda for ten years,\u201d he answered.<\/p>\n

\u201cThat will not be much of a punishment to them,\u201d I suggested.<\/p>\n

But he told me that I had never tried it, and I could not dispute him.<\/p>\n

\u201cThe ones over there,\u201d he remarked, pointing to a detachment of the girls who were chewing gum more vigorously than the others, \u201care sentenced for fifteen years in the ice cream soda lake, and moreover they will have hot molasses candy dropped on them at intervals. They are the ones who wrote:<\/p>\n

\n

If my name you wish to see
Look on page 93,<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n

and then when you had turned to page 93, cursing yourself for a fool as you did it, you only found:<\/p>\n

\n

If my name you would discover
Look upon the inside cover,<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n

and so on, and so on, until you were ready to drop from weariness and exasperation. Hang me!\u201d he suddenly exploded, \u201cif I had the say of it, I\u2019d bury \u2018em alive in cocoanut taffy\u2014I told the Boss so, myself.\u201d<\/p>\n

I agreed with him that they were getting off easy.<\/p>\n

\u201cA lot of them are named \u2018Gerty,\u2019 too,\u201d he added, as though that made matters worse. <\/p>\n

Then he showed me a great crowd of older people. They were mostly men, though there were one or two women here and there.<\/p>\n

\u201cThese are the annotators,\u201d he said, \u201cthe people who work off their idiotic opinions on the margins and fly-leaves of books. They dispute the author\u2019s statements, call him a liar and abuse him generally. The one on the end used to get all the biographies of Shakespeare he could find and cover every bit of blank paper in them with pencil-writing signed \u2018A Baconian.\u2019 He usually began with the statement: \u2018The author of this book is a pig-headed fool.\u2019 The man next to him believed that the earth is flat, and he aired that theory so extensively with a fountain-pen that he ruined about two hundred dollars\u2019 worth of books. They caught him and put him in jail for six months, but he will have to take his medicine here just the same. There are two religious cranks standing just behind him. At least, they were cranks about religion. One of them was an atheist and he used to write blasphemy all over religious books. The other suffered from too much religion. He would jot down texts and pious mottoes in every book he got hold of. He would cross out, or scratch out all the oaths and cuss words in a book; draw a pencil line through any reference to wine, or strong drink, and call especial attention to any passage or phrase he thought improper by scrawling over it. He is tied to the atheist, you notice. The woman in the second row used to write \u2018How true!\u2019 after any passage or sentence that pleased her. She gets only six years. Most of the others will have to keep it up for eight.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cKeep what up?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n

\u201cClimbing barbed-wire fences,\u201d was the answer; \u201cthey don\u2019t have to hurry, but they must keep moving. They begin to-morrow at half-past seven.\u201d [\u2026]<\/p>\n

We hurried on to a crowd of men bent nearly double over desks. They were pale and emaciated, which my guide told me was due to the fact that they had nothing to eat but paper.<\/p>\n

\u201cThey are bibliomaniacs,\u201d he exclaimed, \u201ccollectors of unopened copies, seekers after misprints, measurers by the millimetre of the height of books. They are kept busy here reading the Seaside novels in paper covers. Next to them are the bibliographers\u2014compilers of lists and counters of fly leaves. They cared more for a list of books than for books themselves, and they searched out unimportant errors in books and rejoiced mightily when they found one. Exactitude was their god, so here we let them split hairs with a razor and dissect the legs of fleas.\u201d<\/p>\n

In a large troop of school children\u2014a few hundred yards beyond, I came across a boy about fifteen years old. I seemed to know him. When he came nearer he proved to have two books tied around his neck. The sickly, yellowish-brown covers of them were disgustingly familiar to me\u2014somebody\u2019s geometry and somebody else\u2019s algebra. The boy was blubbering when he got up to me, and the sight of him with those noxious books around his neck made me sob aloud. I was still crying when I awoke.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

From The Librarian at Play, a collection of essays by Edmund Lester Pearson, published in 1911. Pearson was a librarian who wrote humor and true-crime books. I looked and beheld, and there were a vast number of girls standing in rows. Many of them wore pigtails, and most of them chewed gum. \u201cWho are they?\u201d […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":38,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[13633],"tags":[15409,9671,8669,7584,15410,15408,1153,14861],"class_list":["post-77198","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-department-of-tomfoolery","tag-edmund-pearson","tag-excerpts","tag-librarians","tag-punishment","tag-suffering","tag-the-librarian-at-play","tag-torture","tag-vandalism"],"acf":[],"yoast_head":"\nTheir Just Reward<\/title>\n<meta name=\"description\" content=\"An excerpt from \u201cThe Librarian at Play\u201d, a collection of essays by Edmund Lester Pearson, published in 1911.\" \/>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"index, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<link rel=\"canonical\" href=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2014\/09\/23\/their-just-reward\/\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:locale\" content=\"en_US\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:type\" content=\"article\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:title\" content=\"Their Just Reward by Dan Piepenbring\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:description\" content=\"September 23, 2014 \u2013 From The Librarian at Play, a collection of essays by Edmund Lester Pearson, published in 1911. 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