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Public libraries are an integral part of North American communities. With the wide perception that all information people want is freely available, questions arise about the ways in which public libraries are using Web technology. This article assesses public library accessibility via the Web based on a simple random sample of 189 entries coded as “public library type” in the American Library Directory. An e‐mail survey to the heads of public libraries in Winter 2002 augmented the data we collected from an examination of Web sites of the sampled libraries.

AT the very outset of this paper it is necessary to make clear that it is not an attempt to compile an exhaustive bibliography of literature relating to special librarianship. Neither space nor time permit this. In fact, the references given can only claim to be a sample of the wealth of material on the subject and this paper is submitted in the hope that it will stimulate others to more scholarly efforts. Reference numbers throughout this paper refer to items in the ‘Select list of references to the literature of special librarianship’, section 2 onwards.

WE do not apologize for devoting space this month to the Scottish Government Report on Libraries. It is, as our writers affirm, an important document and many themes for debate may emerge from it. If a reading circle of young librarians were formed in any district it could consider this document page by page with much profit. It is, for an official document, interesting in style. It starts many old ideas, it has the verve and certainty which we look for in the amateur rather than the professional writer. To some of its statements, for example its assertion that “libraries have reached or are approaching a temporary limit to their usefulness, because the schools have not yet given adequate training in the use and power of books,” librarians may well ask “why?” in relation to the second part of this statement; and they certainly refuse to admit or believe the first part of it. In fact, the use of libraries in such universal manner is largely the result of the work of modern libraries for children. The librarian teaches children what to read. We have not reached any such limit as is affirmed ; we are indeed only on the margin of our possibilities.

The former colleague at University College of Raymond Irwin (1902–1976) and his obituarist here presents a fuller portrait of this unusual man.

ONE cannot help wondering why people set out to become librarians. Many do so, it must be realised, because they are basically unqualified to become anything else. This is unfortunately true of many graduate entrants who frequently seek employment at libraries having failed as teachers, theological students and the like. They can read and write, and having had sufficient intelligence to take a degree, they pass muster as librarians. Most of them would not do so if they could, so many of them think, find anything better. Many others are sent to librarians for interview by Youth Employment Officers who cannot find higher paid positions at the time and, of course, for most of the smaller towns, it is almost the only respectable employment for “nice” young ladies before matrimony unless they have been taught typewriting and shorthand or know how to handle an adding machine.

Discusses the nature of Raymond Irwin's notion of the “compleat librarian” and develops this theme into the present day and the current stat of the library profession.

The article is a literary essay.

The “compleat librarian” concept is useful as a tool to view the current state of the profession.

This article would be of interest to anyone interested in the perceptions of librarians of old vs today.

Novel view of an old concept.

With comments by J. C. Harrison, Prof. Raymond Irwin, and W. B. Paton.

CIRCUMSTANCES have delayed us this month long enough for us to have read the page on the new President of the Library Association Professor Raymond Irwin. It is a tribute that all will endorse cordially. Since he went to University College he has identified himself even more intensely than he was able to do with every movement that concerns the betterment of libraries as well as his main occupation which was to maintain and extend the work of library training. He has done so, insomuch that students even from America, where good schools abound, have come to take the session at University College. We, as speaking for Grafton and Co., have been privileged to publish the three works by which he is best known, and we hope that they may still be available to readers, especially his Librarianship which is concise, profound and unpedantic a study of library “what's what” or “what should be” as any we know. Those who have not read it would advantage themselves by repairing the omission. His Bird Index, a reflection of the labours of his scanty and strenuous leisure of many years, is we suppose in the library of every reader of this journal. That he will do honour to the Presidency there is no possible doubt. His election was as wise as any that we have had; and the Brighton Conference in 1958 should be amongst our brightest and best.

THE wealth of special and general libraries in Great Britain justifies the assertion that there are few serious inquiries which cannot be answered satisfactorily by one or other of them. In the field of fine arts Britain is especially strong and, although the majority of the great collections on this subject are concentrated in London, the existence of important art libraries—particularly on the subjects of textiles and ceramics—in the provinces must not be overlooked. Moreover, the sources of information on the fine arts comprise not only the special libraries and the appropriate departments of the university libraries but also the special departments of several great public libraries—such as the Hornby Collection at Liverpool—the private collections of experts such as the Raymond Mander and Joe Mitchenson Theatre Research Collection, and the information bureaux such as those maintained by trade organizations and by various foreign governments.

By the time of the Restoration it had begun to dawn on men's minds that well‐bound books, standing upright on shelves with their spines outward, provided not merely the handiest arrangement for the reader, but a decorative feature of considerable beauty for the room. The new fashion had its birth, as I have said, in France. The first great library to be shelved with the spines outwards was that of the historian Jacques de Thou (d. 1617). In 1627, when Gabriel Naudé published his Avis pour dresser une Bibliothèque it was the general custom there; he notes that “they do not now place their Books upon Desks as the ancients did; but upon shelves that hide all the Walls”. Evelyn published his translation of Naudé in 1661, and by then the new fashion was becoming general in England. The change can be traced by current fashions in binding. Volumes intended for storage flat had their sides decorated with elaborate panels, or with cameos and bosses. Those intended for upright storage had designs and lettering or labels on fore‐edge or spine. Fore‐edge decoration gave way gradually to spine decoration in the middle of the 17th century, reaching its full development with Samuel Mearne, Charles II's binder. Storage with fore‐edge outwards was common in English libraries up to the Restoration; it was not discontinued at Cambridge University Library till 1706. It is sometimes said that it was a relic of the earlier custom of chaining books. Normally the chain was attached to the lower fore‐edge of the cover (or the top fore‐edge if the book was kept on a lectern), and this means that the fore‐edge must face outwards. Very occasionally the chain was attached to the joint of the cover and spine, so that the book stood with the spine outwards, but this was rare. However, fore‐edge arrangement was so general in pre‐Restoration private libraries in England (in which chains would rarely if ever have been used) that I find it difficult to regard it merely as a relic of the chained book. In a small collection, I doubt if people bothered which way the book stood. Fore‐edge arrangement may have some slight practical convenience, for it saves turning the book round when you take it down from the shelf. The deciding factor is probably the title label. If this is on the fore‐edge, the book is placed with the fore‐edge showing; if it is on the spine, it is placed with spine to the front. Aesthetically the title fits better on the spine, and is more legible and convenient thus. The fashion thus became universal.