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ABERDEEN, the “Granite City,” the “Silver City by the Sea,” the great headquarters of the grey granite trade, and one of the busiest and most influential mercantile cities in Scotland, has a name which is known throughout the civilized world, and a fame which has penetrated to nearly every quarter of the habitable globe. The writing of all that might legitimately be written concerning this remarkable, and in many cases unique, community of “ hard‐headed Aberdonians ” (as they are usually styled), would fill many large volumes, and as we have neither the time nor the space for the compilation of such a work of history and description as this would imply, our readers must be content with an unpretentious historical survey of what is of more immediate interest to them, viz. : the chief libraries belonging to the city of Aberdeen. These are two in number—the Library of the University and the Public Library.

IN REPLY to Clive Bingley's oblique enquiry (NLW May 1978) I can tell him that I am not Ken Hornsby, the author of a forthcoming Robert Hale ‘pot‐boiler’ entitled Is that the library speaking? Clive's well‐known aversion to the Post Office and his determination to deny it, except in extreme circumstances, the sale of a stamp or two minutes local telephone time, must be hardening with the years. However, inter‐columnar correspondence, though a little slower, is surer—and it does help to fill a few inches.

With this number the Library Review enters on its ninth year, and we send greetings to readers at home and abroad. Though the magazine was started just about the time when the depression struck the world, its success was immediate, and we are glad to say that its circulation has increased steadily every year. This is an eminently satisfactory claim to be able to make considering the times through which we have passed.

OUR various accounts of the Portsmouth Conference, and the official record of it which is now in the hands of readers shows that it may be regarded as a successful one. It was specially notable for the absence of those bickerings and differences which must inevitably come to the surface at times. There may be something in the suggestion of one of our writers that the weather was a main factor. However that may be, there was uniform good temper, and we came away with the belief that a good week's work for librarianship had been done.

A lot has been written on zombies lately and on the rather conservative US-American TV Show The Walking Dead (AMC, 2010–) in particular. A lot less has been written on the SyFy-Show Z Nation (2014–), although it is a sophisticated feminist take on the zombie lore. Centring around a group of survivors, who escort a human–zombie–cyborg across the US and Mexico, the show not only undermines the patriarchalism of its archetype, but also raises questions of post-humanism by the means of Donna Haraway or Rosi Braidotti. With the help of media-self-reflexive parody and pastiche, the series comments on its extradiegetic world as much as on its own genre and offers a deconstruction of stereotypical (gendered) tropes and conventions. In the following chapter, I use a selective close reading of the text and its representation politics to demonstrate how a feminist deconstruction of zombie-horror can come into being and how an (academic) distinction between Quality and Trash TV can be just as regressive as productive in this process.

This is a narrative describing events that led to four women finding their courage to save a nonprofit. Theirs was not the kind of courage that you see in movies where a hero saves the planet. Their courage was subtle, faint, and quiet. Their courage was driven by conviction and belief that someone must always do the right thing, despite the circumstance. The situation and circumstance were a local nonprofit organization being put at risk. That risk would have expanded into the community and impacted the human service work of the organization. The courage in this narrative includes whistleblowing. Whistleblowing is action that is generally considered to be most difficult, due to the potential impact on personal income and reputation. It took courage for three women, who remain anonymous to this day, to become whistleblowers. These women took a risk; they became vulnerable to fear of exposure, as they put their family incomes and personal reputations on the line. This is also the story of a novice chairwoman of a passive board of directors. She was forced to step outside her comfort zone to find and claim her courage. She was tasked with protecting the whistleblowers, addressing the issues, and resolving the problem. Yes, courage is just a seven-letter word, but when you are involved in a situation or circumstance, the weight of courage can feel monumental. The courage of four women and the seven-letter word courage saved the reputation, the service to the community, and the nonprofit organization.

MOST of you would receive at the recent Annual Conference, a circular illustrating a paper by Mr. Chivers on “Library Bookbinding,” in which he describes “an experiment carried out in a large library with a book bound from the sheets in improved binding, and a book purchased in the ordinary way and twice re‐bound.” The pamphlet in question forms a suitable introduction to my remarks.

The foundation collection of the printed books now forming the Library of the British Museum was that of Sir Hans Sloane. This comprised about 40,000 volumes. To it was added in 1759 the Royal collection, begun in the time of Henry VII and inherited by George II from his predecessors on the throne.

The interesting ceremony described in another part of our columns has once more recalled attention to one of the most remarkable characters in the annals of British librarianship. When Mr. Thomas Greenwood endeavoured, at the Plymouth meeting of the Library Association, to interest librarians in the man who had done so much for the craft, it must be confessed that his appeal, for various reasons, did not succeed in arousing so much enthusiasm as might have been expected. For one thing, a considerable proportion of the librarians who attended the Plymouth conference were young men who had not been able to obtain access to the works which Edwards left behind him as his most enduring monument. Again, the prominence given to Ewart as the sole parent of the municipal library movement, had completely overshadowed Edwards' share in the work, and only a few student‐librarians knew anything about the part which Edwards had played in securing effective library legislation. On the other hand, the publications of Mr. Greenwood, of the Library Association itself, and other modern and accessible literature, contain frequent allusions to Edwards and his works, from which information could be obtained, and it is only necessary to cite, in this connection the various writings of Messrs. Axon, Ogle, Garnett, Greenwood, Sutton, Brown, and others.