Libraries: A Guide

Lewis Library is for scientists, Chancellor Green is for English majors, Marquand is for artsy jerks, and Firestone is for nutcases. Simplistic stereotypes? Maybe. But if you don't think that where you choose to hole up with your books and laptop defines you, you‘re wrong. Every library attracts a different type. Let me help you navigate the jungle.

Lewis, for example, is home of the Loud Talker. This is because of Lewis' greatest attribute: It does not look like a library. With its casual seating, high ceilings and endless windows, Lewis is an upbeat, friendly study space.

Unfortunately, this means people think they can answer phone calls inside the library. I often find it hard not to yell, "This is not a zoo!" at tourists who stroll through the place, taking pictures, observing student behavior and, worst of all, speaking at normal volume.

As angry as this makes me, at least I am not alone. The other day, as I settled onto the second floor of Lewis with a few of my friends for some productive schoolwork time, a guy started talking super loudly. And he did not stop. My friends and I exchanged annoyed glances with another group of quiet studiers, and then both groups spontaneously turned their swivelly egg chairs and angrily glared at the Loud Talker. It was a beautiful thing.

Another library with a very obvious personality is Marquand, the art history library, which attracts a pretentious, hip type of student.

One of Marquand's defining features is the biting attitude of its bag checkers. These sneering hipsters are guaranteed to find an illegal water bottle in your bag even if there isn't one and to subsequently make you feel like a criminal.

Because Marquand is filled with such odd ducks, I usually vacillate between shrinking under the judging stares of art history majors or doing whatever I please, trusting that I'll be written off as just another nonconformist hipster.

As often as not, I choose the latter route and find myself rolling around on the floor of one of the library's lower levels to relieve my eighth-hour-of-paper-writing back pain. And honestly, it feels really good - not only to stretch out after so many hours hovering over a computer screen, but also to do whatever the hell I want and feel absolutely no self-consciousness or regret.

When it's time for reading or naps between classes, I head straight for Chancellor Green and its lush leather armchairs, which my friends and I affectionately refer to as the "butter chairs" since they feel, as Linda Richmond would say, "like buttuh." I am actually somewhat wary of printing anything about the wonders of the Chancellor Green chairs, as I would prefer to have them all to myself.

Notice, though, that I suggested these chairs for either reading or napping. There arises the inevitable dilemma of the comfortable chair. While it is perfect for curling up with a book, make sure that book is at least somewhat interesting, or I can guarantee you will choose the napping option every time.

Finally, we get to the mother of all libraries: Firestone. As boring as Firestone might seem, it can bring out the crazy in people. I cannot tell you how many times I have witnessed mental breakdowns on Firestone's C floor.

I once found myself working in Firestone's Trustee Reading Room across from a guy who was napping on one of the library's only couches. After about 15 minutes, this young man starts to scream. Actually scream. In his sleep. For about two minutes.