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The Internet came to Brazil early, and was quickly recognized as an exciting new means of communication, highly appropriate for a technologically advanced and recently democratized society. This paper identifies and characterizes the principal Brazilian digital library initiatives in science and research; education; literature and the humanities and history and politics. Government financing was critical for the implementation of Brazilian digital libraries. Institutions with a strong background in advanced technology had an advantage when entering the digital library field. Cooperative projects have also had significant impact.

Automated systems can be found in about forty locations in Brazil, including both libraries and information systems; they are usually simple systems, developed and operating in isolation. An in‐depth survey of twenty‐two automated library systems revealed seventeen automated catalogues, nine circulation systems and five acquisition systems; in all cases the number of transactions was low by anglo‐American standards. Seven internal indexing systems were also noted; public indexing systems were not always appropriate for the needs of specific institutions. Brazilian libraries have made a firm start in the automation field and will doubtless continue to automate, although this will rarely be their major priority.

ON ONE SIDE of the road there is a giant new university, sprouting dozens of new buildings, new lecture theatres, even a jumbo‐sized new library. It is fringed by rows of neat little boxes, housing the Polish and Pakistani PhDs who will teach here until their students take over. The campus of Ahmadu Bello University, Zaria, Northern Nigeria, has the brash, modern, unfinished atmosphere of new campuses all over the world. Then you notice the little groups of men in loose black or blue garments who sit around the campus, their faces hidden by black headcloths. They carry swords; they are the Touaregs, the legendary nomads of the desert. Destitute, they have come south to escape the drought and do the only job modern society can offer nomadic herdsmen whose animals have died of thirst: they guard the university at night.

‘To hell with comparative librarianship!’ I groaned, as I writhed in agony on the pitching deck. The captain's pet leopard cowered under the table, spitting and snarling as the tropical rainsqualls smashed into the minute, overcrowded launch. I was learning a few things during my year's leave of absence to do research; for instance, when going down the Amazon, travel on a big boat: it's more comfortable, cheaper and there are no leopards under the tables. Also, every single time before you clamber into your hammock, check to see that it is securely hooked. Otherwise you hit the deck with a back‐breaking thud. Simple things, but you only learn by experience.

DURING 1974–5 I was in the wilds of Northern Nigeria, where electronic technology was scarcely a smudge on the horizon, like a dust storm coming down from the nearby Sahara. During that time I spoke on the telephone once, watched television once and saw the ‘Educational Technology Centre’ get its first cassette tape recorders. Then last year I went to the States and suddenly found myself surrounded by on‐line, interactive computer systems, able to type a message onto a big typewriter attached to a computer and get an immediate, personal reply.

RECENTLY I picked up a copy of NEW LIBRARY WORLD and browsed through it, detecting, or so I thought, a certain bias in its editorial approach towards the public librarian, and mentally discounted most of what I read until, emerging through the advertisements, I came to ‘The Shallow End’. Recognising yet another example of Parkinson's law (journalism expands to fill the space available) and style, I nevertheless, as they graphically say, ‘read on’. It was quickly borne in on me that the feelings expressed by the noxious Thrasher in the March and June issues were, with some modification and emendation, precisely what I uneasily felt in regard to the rôle of modern public library in this country. Both articles raise some very serious points and I thought I might expose some of my jaundiced qualms to the judicious discussion of others more nearly concerned.

I DRAW, respectfully of course, the attention of the Chairman of the British Library Board to the fact that, notwithstanding his belief that the new BL building in the Euston Road will, in the fullness of time, upstage such other mighty institutions as the Library of Congress, the latter has in the meantime upstaged the BL.

THE ARTICLE by Simon Francis in the last issue of NLW (and the letter from Anthony Croghan in the Record for December) are clear indications that the honeymoon between the library profession and the British Library is drawing to a close. To change the metaphor, we have done our share of cheering and clapping, and are beginning to ask interesting questions about the new package deal. Surprisingly we are finding a dearth of hard facts within the mass of publicity which is being poured out. There are those who see this as a gigantic public relations exercise—what has the British Library to hide?

THE NEWS will doubtless appear in the May issue of the Record, and several days after that they will send me a press release just in case the Record's prose style has defeated me, announcing that the LA's president‐elect for 1978 is to be Godfrey Thompson, Guildhall Librarian (City of London) and currently Treasurer of the la, as well as a member of our editorial board since its inception. (I had therefore better make it clear that it wasn't Godfrey who told me, or indeed anyone else on the board.)

CHESHIRE County Libraries has been running a ‘dial‐a‐story’ service for the last year, enabling children to listen to a selection of 5‐minute stories recounted by library staff. As many as 5000 calls have been received in a single week, and Alex Wilson, Cheshire's Director of Library Services, is very pleased with the success of the scheme. Does the Post Office pay a commission, I wonder?