Gracing Libraries

by

Lauren Roberts

Christmas has been over for a while, but you wouldn’t know it at my house. That’s because I’ve been spending the past week savoring Libraries (Schirmer/Mosel), a fantastically gorgeous gift book on—what else?—libraries.

Candida Hofer is a German photographer who specializes in the interiors of public representational spaces such as staircases, lobbies, exhibition spaces and libraries. Her trademark is their emptiness, but she presents them in such as way that a comforting serenity rather than weird loneliness radiates from the images.

The book is oversized which suits the sober and restrained (but undeniably beautiful) photographs perfectly. Of the 137 images, only two have people in them, and even in those they seem to blend into the scene, more of an essence  than a presence. It helps, of course, that some of the libraries she includes are spectacular, unusual and architecturally stunning ones—“cathedrals of knowledge” such as the British Library in London, the Escorial in Spain, the Whitney Museum and the Pierpoint Library in New York, the Bibliothèque Nationale de France in Paris, the Villa Medici in Rome and the Hamburg University Library, among others. But even in institutional ones she finds beauty.

                   

Hofer is a gifted photographer of space. She imbues her images with the “un-capture-able,” those non-physical aspects such as silence, grace, metaphysics, eloquence. Even in bare rooms where bookcases stand empty and roughhewn floors await refinishing, Hofer discovers the same grace as in rooms with brilliantly detailed ceiling paintings, antique furniture and marble floors. 

She has mastered the art of the close-up as in her picture of a section of three shelves that house a surprisingly exquisite array of well-worn and even damaged books so artfully done that they possess more beauty than perfectly preserved editions. You can see and feel the love these books have known. Another image focuses on an austere room filled with long tables, plain wooden chairs, linoleum flooring and fluorescent lighting relieved only by red curtains on the large windows. Yet even this functional place seems to show off an elegance of simplicity under her sensitive eye.

                   

Her definition of libraries or their parts includes an unrelieved line of floor-to-ceiling archives housed in pale green binders on metal racks as straight as lines of soldiers; a row of silent computers and monitors (the libraries of the future?); shelves of books just inside a glass wall; a massive structure of four floors of books highlighted and made accessible by a fantastic iron staircase; books piled neatly on tables; and even messy desks with papers and books spilling over.  

Libraries also possesses a witty, thoughtful essay on the role of libraries in human lives and human history by Umberto Eco, author of On Literature and The Name of the Rose. It’s wonderful reading, a fine complement to the photographs. Libraries’ purposes, he notes, may have shifted over time from creating a collection to hoarding to transcribing to getting people to read, and to conceal and even find books. His exploration of this plurality leads him to produce what he calls “a negative model,” that is, points of a bad library, and they are hilarious.

But Eco uses more than humor when he waxes eloquent on the libraries of his memory: “. . . the Biblioteca Nazionale in Rome, with green lamps on the table, or afternoons of great erotic enthusiasm in the Sainte Geneviève or in the Library of the Sorbonne” or on his two favorite libraries of today, the Sterling at Yale and the new library of the University of Toronto. Whether he is describing their hours; stacks access (“In the stacks at Sterling, for example, it would be child’s play to commit a crime and hid the body under certain shelves of geographical maps, and it wouldn’t be found for decades”); lighting; furniture; photocopy machines (“Prior to xeroculture, this person would have made copious, handwritten notes in those huge consultation rooms and something would have stuck in his head. But with photocopy neurosis, you run the risk of wasting days in the library photocopying books that you will never read.”); mobility of books and snags (the ratio of theft to access), Eco speaks for all librarians and library lovers.

This book will probably not be found in your local bookstore, but it can most likely be ordered. Prices seem to vary depending on where you buy it so it is worth doing comparisons. At my local independent store and at the Tattered Cover, it can be ordered for $99.95. Oddly, Powell’s Books doesn’t show it at all. AddALL shows 27 copies ranging in price from $67.91 to $1,850 for a limited edition. Both new and used copies can be found on Bookfinder in that same price range.

Anyone who loves books and libraries, architecture or fine art photography will probably love this book too. The only problem I found with it is the lust it has created in me. I want some of those libraries, and the only way I am likely to even come close is to buy a winning lottery ticket. In the meantime, however, I can dream—and enjoy this book.


Almost since her childhood days of Mother Goose, Lauren has been giving her opinion on books to anyone who will listen. That “talent” eventually took her out of magazine writing and into book reviewing in 2000 for an online review site where she cut her teeth (as well as a few authors). Stints as book editor for her local newspaper and contributing editor to Booklist and Bookmarks magazines have reinforced her belief that she has interesting things to say about books. Lauren shares her home with several significant others including three cats, 750 bookmarks and nearly 1,000 books that, whether previously read or not, constitute her to-be-read stack. She can be reached at This e-mail address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it