One of the nastier trends in library management in recent years is the notion that libraries should be "responsive to their patrons."
—Connie Willis, Bellwether
It is a well-documented fact that, over time, buildings come to physically resemble the people who live in them (see: the famed hanging moss on the ancestral home of Starswirl the Bearded). However, few know that buildings inherit the attitudes of their residents as well. The miser’s house winces at every coin that passes beyond its walls, the salesman’s apartment welcomes you in with a well-honed pitch, then sends you on your way with as much extra baggage as possible, and the less said about the things middle schools get up to behind their dumpsters, the better.
The Ponyville Public Library was quite pleased with itself. Spring had scarcely shrugged out of her saddle-warmer and already the old oak’s branches were full and green, thick with shading leaves and flowing sap. And, as if this wasn't enough to earn it the envy of smaller, less-hollow trees everywhere, its flowers had bloomed early in a fashionable pink streak down one side of its canopy. But the library’s lovely exterior concealed its true treasures: its perfectly sorted shelves, filled with the collected knowledge and imagination of ponies ranging from the present all the way back to the early days of the Princesses’ rule. There, between those shelves, the library was a haven of peace, of order, and of strict 9-5 business hours, all maintained rigorously by its resident and caretaker, Twilight Sparkle, Librarian Junior Grade.
Yes, Twilight loved her library treehouse dearly: the smell of old books that hung in the air, accentuated by woody notes from the floor and walls and the faint whiff of volatile chemicals from the basement. It was a good place to sit and think, and for a pony of Twilight's disposition, that was as precious as any riches the world could offer.
But most of all, it was quiet.
“Spike!” Twilight hollered, darting across the library atrium for what must have been the seventeenth time that morning, her hooves clattering on wood. Furniture flew out of her way and hovered near the ceiling as she scoured the floor for loose papers, dust, and anything else that didn't belong. “Have you found the pocket-sized catalog for M-Z yet?”
“I found a catalog for M-Z,” said Spike, holding aloft a foot-thick stack of index cards on a metal ring. “Do you have some ginormous saddlebag-sized pockets that I don't know about?”
Twilight blinked. Horror crept slowly over her features, then sprung. “Ohmygosh I don't even own anything with pockets! Spike, I need you to run down to Rarity's and buy me a dress suit! Navy. No, wait, I look terrible in navy—gray! Is gray too whimsical? Oh, where did I put the Official Librarian’s Guide to Style for Librarians?”
With that, Twilight was off again, racing for the shelves. Spike sighed and wiped a fleck of unicorn spittle from his face. Ignoring Twilight’s frantic muttering, he grabbed a length of string from a supply cabinet which was hovering nearby, looped it through the ring which held the somewhat-small catalog of Ponyville Library books M-Z, and tied it off.
Looks about the right size, he thought, examining his handiwork.
He held up a thumb, gauging the distance to where Twilight had climbed up on two hooves to scan the higher shelves. With a gentle toss, the index-cards sailed through the air and dropped neatly around Twilight’s neck.
Four points!
Sometimes Spike wondered what life was like for people who had one.
“I can’t find it anywhere!” said Twilight.
Spike crossed the room and gave her a reassuring pat on the shoulder, which pulled double duty as a way of keeping her in one place for a few seconds. “Twilight, I think you may be overreacting.”
“Overreacting? OVERREACTING?!” Twilight cried, leaning so far forward that Spike had to use his tail to keep from falling over.
“Remember that talk we had about personal sp—”
“The head of the ELA is coming here for an an emergency library inspection, and you think I'm overreacting? Have you even seen this place? When was the last time we cleaned the underside of my desk?” The desk in question came sailing down from the ceiling and stopped next to them, twisting to reveal its seedy underbelly.
Spike sighed, and brushed a few loose seeds off the desk’s bottom and into the waste bin. “Twilight, you're being crazy. Again. Ms. Silentreading loves you. She's probably just coming to discuss some new inter-library loan initiative or something.”
That seemed to calm her down, or at least slow the rate at which she was hyperventilating. “You think so?” asked Twilight. The furniture quivered slightly, and began to settle back towards the floor.
“I'm sure,” said Spike, as he gently edged Twilight out of the way of the descending desk.
As the desk righted itself, a drawer on the bottom right-hand side slipped open, and something thumped out onto the floor. Twilight whipped around, practically pouncing on the whatever-it-was. Spike groaned and threw up his hands. And here he had been so close.
The thing that had dropped out of the desk was a brown and somewhat squashed-looking book, the sight of which, as Twilight levitated it into the air, caused Spike to suddenly recall a very important piece of business he had on the other side of the room. Somewhere.
Spike crept away on tiptoe, but had barely gone three steps before Twilight cut him off: “Spike, what was this doing wedged in my drawer? I’ve been trying to open it for a week!”
Spike froze in mid-sneak. “W-well, what do you want with that drawer anyway? There’s nothing important in there.”
The book flopped threateningly in Twilight’s magical grip. “Spike. Where did this come from?”
He sighed. No getting out of it now. “The Princess,” he mumbled.
“Princess Celestia sent you a book?”
“Not... me, exactly.”
“You’ve been opening my mail?!”
“Not the letters!” Spike said quickly. “Only the packages. And only the ones that looked present-shaped.”
Twilight fixed him with a glare, and was halfway through the necessary calculations to create a Spike-proof present pocket dimension before it occurred to her to panic. “Wait, you said the Princess sent me a book? Spike, the last four times she did that Equestria was nearly destroyed! What did she say? Oh why didn’t you just tell me—”
“She didn’t say anything.”
Twilight blinked in surprise. “Nothing?”
Spike shrugged. “No note, just the book. I figured she probably just wanted us to shelve it. But it didn’t have a call number, so I, uh, filed it in your desk. Where you’d find it. Eventually.” He took a pause, but then, in the spirit of full disclosure, continued, “Hopefully not anytime soon. Twilight, that book is creepy.”
“Oh come on, Spike, we’ve seen plenty of scary books, but a book that’s actually...” Twilight's smile faded as the book held her gaze. She had never liked being stared at.
Twilight gave a start—but when she looked again, it was nothing. Certainly not a pair of eyes. Just some crinkles in the cover. A trick of the light.
It was easy to see where she had been mistaken, because the cover was entirely odd. It was done in an old binding style—it must have been, the book was positively ancient—with the front cover terminating in a long flap of loose-hanging material. The flap then wound around the entire book a second time before being secured in place by two small belts, like a the sleeves of a straitjacket. The cover material was unfamiliar too: soft to the touch, flexible, and very tough, not at all like cloth. A musty smell clung to it, but different from the smell of old paper or dust. More like it had been...
Alive.
While her hindbrain screamed for her to throw the book across the room and scramble onto the nearest bit of furniture for safety, Twilight’s rational mind decided that it had had enough. It was simply not going to put up with any more of this nonsense. A book made out of skin? It sounded like something out of those "scary" paperbacks she'd read when she was a filly: The Equicidal Binder (“A Tale of Terror and Tannin!”).
Still, there was something uneasy about the book. Like watching lightning flash, too far off to hear the thunder. Like you were holding your breath. Waiting for the roar.
“Maybe we should—” Twilight began, but at that moment there was a sharp series of knocks at the door. She went rigid. “That must be her. Quick, Spike, shelve this!” Twilight said, shoving the book into Spike’s claws with a flick of her horn.
Spike recoiled as far as he could while still holding onto the book's cover. “Where?”
“Oh, put it in with horror,” said Twilight, racing for the door. She stopped. “No, wait.” It was absurd but... she didn’t want to give the book any ideas. She needed someplace where it couldn’t do any harm (was she seriously thinking about this?). Botany? No. History? No. Self-help? Oh Celestia no. “Um... Civil disobedience,” she decided, after a moment's hesitation. “And see if you can get them to stay in order this time.”
Spike saluted and set off, holding the book as far from his body as possible.
All this time the knocking had continued, three sharp, precise notes every three seconds.
Twilight took a deep breath and opened the door.
The stallion standing before her was no one she had ever met. He was also one of the thinnest ponies she had ever seen. Or perhaps “thin” was not quite right. His skin lay tight across his chest, enough to suggest individual ribs even through his fur, but the ribcage itself bulged wide and deep like an opera singer's. His coat was gray—on him it did not look whimsical at all—and his mane was so pale, and pulled back so tightly against his scalp that it was nearly translucent.
He stepped inside without a word. A bone-pale light from his horn closed the door after him.
“Um... excuse me,” said Twilight, surprised at how automatically she had backed away from the threshold at the first sign he wished to cross. She hadn’t even asked for his name. “Are you—”
“You must be Twilight Sparkle,” he said, in a low voice that seemed to strain, not with forcing the words out, but with holding them back, with trying to keep itself quiet. “Librarian Junior Grade, Ponyville Library, purple class. Yes?”
“Um... yes,” said Twilight. “Does that mean you're from the ELA?”
“I am the ELA,” corrected the stallion. “The head, heart, and... soul.”
“But where's Sustine—I mean, Ms. Silentreading?”
The stallion gave a snort that seemed to travel through his nostrils one at a time. “She has been,” he paused, balancing the next phrase on the tip of his tongue, checking its aerodynamics. “Relieved of duty,” he said at last. “Suffice it to say I am in charge now. My name is Volume Control.”
Volume Control began to pace the room, examining the shelves and leaving a rather stunned Twilight to scramble after him. “But, Mr. Control,” she said, “I don't understand. Not that I doubt your qualifications, but if Ms. Silentreading has... retired, wouldn’t the chair of the ELA normally go to the current Canterlot Royal Libr—”
“An emergency session of Association members was held for the purpose of electing new leadership. I am the result.”
Twilight cocked her head. “I wasn't informed of a special session.”
“Yes,” Volume Control agreed. “Tell me, Miss Sparkle, do the books in your library see much use?”
For Twilight, who was having an exceptionally hard time finding her footing in this conversation, this was a lifeline if ever there was one. “Oh, yes,” she said, brimming with pride. “It’s a wonderful collection—I’ve read almost all of them. I actually just did a paper for Philiology Quarterly on the long-term health benefits of hugging, and Psychosomaticism And You, Also Where Did All These Hives Come From? was a huge help. Not to mention, what a page turner—”
“I am not asking about your use,” snapped Volume Control, still busy scanning the historical fiction section, and making the occasional tutting noise. Twilight had often felt the same in that section. How could anypony write about an Equestria where Celestia had never come to power? Or worse, one in which she was some sort of tyrant! “I am asking about the circulation of library materials.”
Twilight had been halfway through a letter-to-the-editor about the dangers of revisionist history, and not quite following along her new boss. “Circulation?” she repeated.
“Yes. About how frequently, would you say, do patrons check books out of the library?”
Twilight let out a gasp. “Sir, I am a professional librarian! I would never allow some random street pony to just walk off with one of our books. What if something happened to it? What if it got lost? What if they dog-eared the pages?!”
For the first time in several minutes, Volume Control’s head twisted around, like a machine on a rusty spring, to look at Twilight. “Excuse me, did I hear correctly? You say that you never allow patrons to take books out of the library?”
“Absolutely not!” Twilight said, holding a hoof to her heart. “Well... my friend Rainbow Dash sometimes, but she only ever wants the Daring Do series, and those are technically my personal copies. Plus she keeps forgetting her stuff here, so I’ve got about 150 bits worth of collateral at this point. And a magic tortoise-helicopter. I haven’t been able to figure out what those go for. Anyway, rest assured, apart from that these books do not leave my sight!”
“So, I suppose you would say your circulation is zero, then?” said Volume Control. Twilight gave a proud nod. “Well. That certainly makes things simpler. You’re fired.”
There was a loud thud from somewhere in the room, and Twilight briefly wondered if it might have been her jaw actually hitting the floor. She probably wouldn’t have felt it if it were. She had gone quite numb.
However, a moment's thought, and the addition of several books clattering to the floor behind her, were plenty sufficient for Twilight to place the noise: it was the (unfortunately familiar) sound of a baby dragon falling off a stepladder.
“What?!” Spike yelled, charging across the room. “You can’t fire Twilight! She’s a great Librarian! She loves books more than anypony I’ve ever met. It’s actually a bit creepy! But at least she cares, unlike you, you big—”
At this point Spike’s mouth zippered itself shut.
“I... I don’t understand,” said Twilight, her horn dimming. She ignored the muffled grunts behind her as Spike alternated between shooting her harsh looks and trying to pry his lips apart. “Why are you... Oh. Oh!” Finally it clicked—and Twilight couldn’t help but laugh at her own folly. “This must be one of Sustine’s famous practical jokes! I’ve never seen one myself—ooh, this is just like the time she misshelved Dude, Where’s My Horn? under fiction!”
Volume Control gave her a puzzled look.
“You know,” said Twilight, “instead of under health and medici—”
“I am aware of the proper location of Dude, Where’s My Horn?, Miss Sparkle!” snapped Volume Control. “And I am not joking! You are most seriously fired.”
There was no mistaking the look of abject seriousness on Volume Control's face. Twilight had seen it in her own reflection too many times—usually accompanied by words to the effect of Pinkie, would you stop with the sousaphone already?—to doubt him. With denial crashing down around her like so much broken pottery, Twilight could only manage an equally fragmented, “But... but why?”
“Why? Where do I begin?” said Volume Control. “You have a complete disregard for the main function of a library. You have done nothing to promote literacy in your community. You won’t even let other ponies read the collection!”
“Sir, I think you misunderstood,” said Twilight, forcing calm—no, more than that, forcing hope into her words. “Of course the library is open to everypony! Who’s willing to take a course on the proper care of library materials and submit to a simple background check. It’s not my fault nopony’s passed. If they’re ‘too busy’ to write a little 1500 word essay on proper reading posture, how am I supposed to know that they won’t be too busy to practice it?”
Volume Control regarded her coolly. “Patrons are more important than books, Miss Sparkle.”
The words hit like a slap—Twilight stumbled backwards, the very ground beneath her hooves teetering dangerously, as on the lip of some great chasm. “I... I never thought... from another librarian...” she stammered. Spike ceased his ongoing battle with his still-sealed mouth to lay a hand on her shoulder.
Volume Control’s gaze swept over to him. “Oh, yes, and let’s not forget that despite all your preaching about caring for the collection, you use a fire-breathing dragon as your assistant.”
Spike’s ridges quivered at the accusation. He stepped forward, making a series of complicated and irate gestures at Volume Control. The head librarian looked up at Twilight questioningly, but she could only shrug a sad, uninterested shrug.
Spike gave a muffled groan and darted across the room for the supply cabinet. A second later he returned, a quill in one hand, with the other holding up a scroll which read: Hey!
He lowered the paper and scribbled furiously with the quill.
I’ve only ever set like, three books on fire!
“Wait, three?” Twilight started up out of her own misery. “What was the third?”
Uh...
Volume Control cleared his throat with a sound like steel wool in a blender. “Well then, Miss Sparkle,” he said, “I think we've taken enough of each other's time. I shall give you a few days to move your belongings while I look for a replacement.”
Whole new reaches of horror opened up beneath the reaches of horror which had already been waiting to swallow Twilight. Whole new reaches with whole new teeth. “Sir, you don't mean... L-leave the library?”
Volume Control gave another snort—this time with the nostrils almost working in stereo, as if he were getting the hang of it. “Surely you don't expect the Association to continue to pay your rent when you are no longer even nominally working for us.”
Memories flashed through Twilight's head: Ponyville, her friends, finally living someplace where the humidity and her mane more-or-less got along. “B-but.... Princess Celestia assigned me to live here. By royal edict!” she protested feebly.
“Well then, I’m sure it won’t take more than a few proclamations for her to set you up with an apartment somewhere.” The almost-smile on Volume Control's face gave a sense that he might be almost-enjoying this. With a toss of his head, he turned towards the door. “Perhaps you’d best write to her n—” Volume Control froze. For several long seconds he was silent. “On... second thought,” he said at last, “I may have spoken hastily.” When he turned around, his expression was the least stern Twilight had ever seen it. It was almost neutral, even. “I suppose it is only fair to give you a chance to adapt yourself to my more... stringent standards.”
Twilight’s heart did cartwheels in her chest. “You mean it?”
“Two weeks,” said Volume Control, the starch coming back into his features. “No more. And I want to see big numbers! I want every single book in this library to circulate! I want every pony in this town to have a library card—and to have used it—or you're out on the street. Do I make myself clear?”
“Every single... but Sir—” Volume Control silenced her with a glare. Twilight gulped. “Er, yes. Crystal clear.”
“Good. Then I suggest you get to work, Miss Sparkle. Good day.”
Twilight watched him leave. This time he did not close the door. And, although a cold wind now swept into the library through the open doorway, it was some time before either Twilight or Spike gathered themselves enough to shut it.
Spike broke the silence first. “Well... what now?”
“I don't know, Spike,” said Twilight. A weight like enormity itself had perched on her back, claws dug in, trying to sink her into the floorboards. “I guess if we want to stay in Ponyville we have to...” she broke off, lips trembling. She turned to him. “Run a library.”
Spike's pupils shrank, then rolled upwards into his head, and for the second time that day he dropped to the floor like a sack of potatoes.
Outside, thunder cracked its cat-o-nine-tails against the sky, and the wind howled like a beaten dog below the clouds. The Ponyville Public Library shook in the gusts like a wailing child in a ship at sea which was also in a storm. Finally, the heavens broke under the torture—rain bled from the laden clouds, and as the first two drops struck the old oak tree, they ran down its face, exactly like tears.
Oh crap. I am betting that book of evil makes into circulation.
I am not sure if you are trying to make Volume Control a villain, because everything he said is correct.
3104109 Even the humble Strawman can have a point if he is actually a straw assassin. Who carries knives. Pointy knives.
Now, far be it from me to spread vicious rumors that Volume Control is actually made of straw, or has ever hunted other ponies for sport--but one has to wonder, why haven't we heard any evidence to the contrary, hmm?
Think about it.
(I'm being cryptic and noncommittal)
Although this is a funny story so far, I dislike the fanon idea of "Twilight the book fetishist." People who really enjoy books as things to _read_ rather than collectors items usually want to share their love of reading with other people.
3104331 I agree with you right up until someone I lent a book to returns it with the cover bent/creased/scuffed up. Then God defend them...
...from me pouting for like 20 minutes.
To be honest, I think it's nothing to do with loving to read per se: persnicketyness is persnicketyness, and in a person who loves books it extends to their books. In my interpretation, it's more a symptom of Twi's perfectionism and fixation on order than just her love of reading.
Or the short version: well, yes, not everyone who loves reading is like that, but without that the main joke of the fic doesn't work, so.
3104109
Well, he did say he wanted every book in the library to circulate. That one pretty much has to get out, if Twilight's going to keep her place.
A very promising start.
Going to have to agree with Volume Control. What use is a library if you can't take out books for your own benefit? If anything, Twilight thinks pretty much every book is hers and hers alone. She's got the idea of the library down with having lots of books with taking care of them, filing them and what not, but not the idea of how an actual library works with patrons.
I always kind of wondered this because no pony really ever comes into the library to do anything. Just Twilight's friends and if anything, have a party or show a film.
so volume control staged a coup de tate and made himself head of the association now he is threatening celestias student and above all else ignoring a royal edict. you do realise he'll be in jail inside of a week right?
Only the first chapter and I'm already loving it, especially those little bits of wordplay.
3104534 Not really, the sudden rise to power may be a little shady, but his review of the library seems to be normal. He mentions the library association is paying Twilight's for a job she doesn't do, so he replaces her with some one willing to do the work they're being paid for. In fact the royal edict is the only thing keeping her afloat.
3105042 keep in mind that a local lybrary association needs permission from a local magistrate to act in a constitusional monarchy (daiarchy here)
being the closest highest ranking noble, thats twilight herself.
So is the ELA kind of like the IRS, virtually untouchable and fearsome? So terrifying in fact that gods tremble at the mere thought of doing their taxes late?
I heard about a book that won't stop staring. It's a RepliCant. Is that what that is? I know little about that game.
Asking for everypony in Ponyville is going to get Volume Control fired. It should be the goal, yes, but not after two weeks.
Something is suspicious about Volume Control and however he seized control. The very first thing Twilight ought to do is a little research about what went down at the ELA meeting.
And then Volume Control learned he was making a mistake. This is not only a Junior Grade Librarian... this is the Princess' most trusted, most faithful student. Twilight is living there by Royal Edict. And he is about to violate that royal edict. Volume Control is suddenly pondering how much longer his job is about to last.
And that's why he changed his mind in such a hurry. XD Because of the size of the brick he nearly made himself pass in the floor there. XD
3106313 The IRS with audits bright
Both man and beast does fiercely smite
And ponies eek* must pay their bill
from Baltimare to Ponyville.
But more to fear have those who borrow
and to their unending sorrow
No books return, nor late fees pay
For they must face the ELA.
*eek is an archaic word meaning "too" or "also," and is pronounced like "ache" unless my Middle English pronunciation is failing me. Chaucer uses it quite a bit.
Why not just use the word "too"? Because, as Chaucer would have put it, "Shutte up your hole for pies and fasten it wel."
3106996 ...okay, don't want to piss off the ELA now...
Volume Control brings to mind the Auditors of Reality that make an occassional appearance in Pratchett's Discworld series.
Have an up-vote, good author, and proceed post-haste!
This is brilliant, and you gave me the idea of writing a Star Swirl vs. Lovecraftian mythos tomes story.
Also, you must read this article about scary libraries: http://exurbe.com/?p=1992
could have done without the necronomicon.
3104534
I don't think Celestia is going to help in this case. ELA can probably do something horrible to her like revoke her library card. No one is above law!
Same rules with the Equestrian Revenue Service.
Extremely funny and well written. The ELA-guy makes a good lawful-neutral villain. I love the clash of practicality with dedication we see in Twilight here.
Can't wait for more!
3104331>>3104331 this is a plot point in the series. We're repeatedly shown that Twilight does want people to love books the way she does...but people in Ponyville aren't really interested. The idea that Twilight is overprotective of her books doesn't fit with her sharing them with Dash, not bothering to call Discord out on eating them and hoofing one off to The Cutie Mark Crusaders of all ponies. Rather, I think in-show we're supposed to assume ponies just don't really like reading much in Ponyville, or attain them off screen when it isn't interrupting the plot.
This will be epic. This will be awesome.
And that line says EVERYTHING.
~Skeeter The Lurker
3107503 The head of the Canterlot Mason's Guild looked up at the strange visitor, with his strange robe, and his strange smile, and his strange, too-tight skin. All the more strange was the fact that, a mere moment ago, the head of the Canterlot Mason's Guild had been quite certain he was alone in the room.
"And what brings you here so stealthily?" he asked the figure.
"There is a matter I wish seen to," replied the figure, his voice a permanent, strained whisper. "I understand that you specialize in... resolving unpleasantness between your client and another party."
"Ah, then you wish to commission a statue?"
"Precisely."
The guild head leaned forward across his desk, and slid around the papers with a hoof. "We do like to know who we're working for."
"I am certain you do. Suffice it to say, I am a wealthy stallion who wishes this pony to be... memorialized, as you might put it." The hooded figure passed a slip of paper across the desk.
The head of the guild took the picture, looked at it, and snorted. "Oh, yes, very funny."
"I do not kid."
"Then you are very seriously deranged," said the guild head sternly. "You honestly mean to suggest that we--"
He stopped as a sack of bits--not a pouch, not a money-bag, a sack, landed on his desk. Coins spilled over the top, onto his carefully ordered papers.
The guild head cleared his throat. "Well that certainly... yes... But, even if we were to accept this... contract, how would the statue be... constructed?"
"That is your concern," sniffed the robed figure. "You would like my business, yes?" The guild head nodded hastily. The hooded figure's lips pulled back, exposing his teeth. "Then the matter is simple. We petrify the Gift Horse."
It it explicitly stated anywhere that Golden Oaks is a lending library? (As opposed to a repository where copies may be made, but the original volumes do not leave the premises.)
(Yeah. Probably won't fly.)
Anyway, the competition from the "Books & Wheelbarrows" outlet next door probably doesn't help Twi's circulation figures.
It would've been nice to get another chapter of "In Search of Lost Friends...", but there's nothing wrong with something new and equally hilarious.
3104387 I can sort of relate to that frame of mind. My brother scarcely washes his hands, which does nothing for the covers of the books he borrows from me, and he's too lazy to keep the spines of paperbacks from creasing. This is why he will only ever borrow one George R. R. Martin book until I get through the series myself. It would be different if I actually had to run a library, but in Twilight's defense, she does live there.
3111448 Er... yes it would be nice to get another chapter of Lost Friends. I'll do my best, but I'm not ready to make any predictions/promises yet.
I'm glad you're willing to forgive me and read a new thing in its place. Your faith will (eventually) be rewarded!
3111006 Hmm, I honestly hadn't considered the possibility that it might be something like a research library. Mostly because Ponyville is sort of a little hick town.
On the other hand, it is pretty close to Canterlot, so if for some reason the Canterlot Library needed to store excess or non-circulating materials someplace else, Ponyville would be an obvious choice.
I prefer to think that Twilight is just really bad at outreach, though.
Almost makes me think of how Aziraphale (and other booksellers) were described in 'Good Omens'. Although I'd have to agree, her resisting booklending doesn't really fit in with what we've seen.
Another thing that comes to mind ... there's precedent for some books to be kept out of circulation. Whether it be 'reference books' (stuff most American public libraries keep and not lend out, usually encyclopaedias) or more restricted materials (things that would be in the securely locked Starswirl wing), some books just don't get lent out.
(And if she wasn't so rattled, wouldn't she know to keep a section aside for dangerous information, especially after the love poison mess?)
Something tasteful and fun I found stabbing randomly at the front page?
Unprecedented!
Ha! Cute story. What's not to like? It has an ultra-neurotic version of Twilight, funny prose, and an evil book bound in equine skin, that watches you. To say nothing of...
...
...actually, forget any other reasons. I think I'm pretty much going to follow the story mostly on due to that book. The description you provide, with the tricks-of-the-light, and Twilight wanting to hop up on a couch, like she was avoiding a mouse, was awesome.
3110221
Um... actually, I think Twilight might be the small-time lawful neutral villain in this one.
Seriously, her boss there just wants her to, y'know, actually be of service to her community, like her job entails, instead of treating a public library as her personal book collection. That's a pretty goodly reason for things.
3113661
He conceded and let her try to change, in the end, yes. But he actually just kicked her out instead of trying to change her ways, so he has a villaineous streak in his personality, at least.
I am liking this story so far. Excited to see what happens next
I can kinda understand where Twilight comes from, two weeks ago I started working at a library, I can't understand how people can't seem to put books back where they found them
of course I am not a Librarian, I am a Page which is like Spike's duties except I don't send letters to a pony princess by fire breath
I am getting a very serious "How Hermes Requisitioned His Groove Back" vibe from this story. So a song is necessary.
I haven't seen a comedy that's piqued my interest like this in a while. I look forward to seeing where it goes.
3104109
He's not a villain. He's worse.
...he's a bureaucrat.
3114607
theaccountantmarketer.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/12/hermes-conrad.jpg
Approves!
3114036 Hey so was I (a page, that is--and a circ desk worker)!
I think you will enjoy some of the ponies who actually visit the library next chapter, though with any luck they will only speak a little to your personal experience.
It's a good start, but it's all set up and there isn't enough to get my teeth into to favorite it yet.
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Patrons, the bane of any library.
3111866 which, again, isn't the case in canon (with all likelihood).
But this is a comedy 'verse. Proceed!
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I was a page too. What a coincidence. It's better if patrons leave books on the table rather than put them back. They are more likely to put them in the wrong spot.
This actually kind of reminds me of a premise for a fanfic that I myself had toyed with the idea of writing, where Twilight gets in trouble with a library inspector because said inspector didn't approve of Spike working there (and probably living there too) naturally leaving a dilemma of what to do about it so to be able to fix it without having either of them leave the library. I ended up not going through with it, though, namely because part of the story would've had Spike trying go and assist the other members of the Mane 6 in their various activities while Twi worked at coming up a solution...which proved to be oddly not as interesting as you might think. Either that or I was just approaching the idea entirely the wrong way, but anyway, we aren't here to discuss fanfic ideas I've had and never wrote.
Anyway, do like the premise of THIS fanfic, and will follow.
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I agree with you there. Something is not right. It's like he looks like the pony version the Grim Reaper. First the strange book that could be the Necronomicon and then this pony shows up. Things are getting weird around here.
3115975 Well, the problem there sounds like you've got Twi off by herself looking for some technical loophole while Spike tries to address the problem in a way that's sort of not addressing the problem... It's not a bad premise though. Maybe an older Spike who's willing to move out so that Twi can keep her residence, and misunderstandings on both sides--Twi spends all her time trying to think of a way to fix things (which again, kinda boring, so you get like one scene of that or she starts dragging other ponies into it) so Spike thinks she's upset with him for getting them kicked out, so he starts talking about striking out on his own, which makes Twi thinks he wants to leave, and then when the whole thing's exploded in a big confrontation Twi figures out how Spike can stay and the two reconcile.
And maybe Spike decides it's time to get his own place anyway? I'm not sure how I'd do it.
Sorry, people mention a story idea to me and I can't help myself.
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Not a bad idea, but again doesn't seem quite enough, or goes in directions I'm not sure I'd personally want to go in.
My main idea behind the idea was to have Spike go out and live life with some of the other mane six, but ultimately deciding that he was happiest with Twilight. A kind of "discovering the grass isn't really greener on the other side of the hill after all" sort of story. I also would've tried to explore the brother-sister-like relationship between Twi and Spike during it too (had I written it) and just kind of reaffirm that for them. So at the very least it had a good beginning and a fair ending at least, but it was the middle that always fell apart.
Oh well. I've got more than enough fanfic ideas on my plate that I can work with that I don't REALLY need another.
I hope you're not trying to make Volume Control a villain. He DOES raise good points. The library isn't Twilight's personal book collection. At some point, I hope to see a chapter in which Twi and another character discuss the problem seriously, and Twi admits that she wasn't doing hr job.
Or maybe she just gets featured on an episode of WTFIWWY. Either's okay with me!
The only time the library seemed to operate like an actual library was "Show Stoppers" when the CMC borrowed that book for their show. But even then it was still treated like it's Twilight's personal book collection.
Looking forward to read more of this, as Twilight has to deal with actually having a job.
"1500 word essay on proper reading posture". That's so in-character it hurts.
Volume Control has perfectly good points.
That said, he still comes across as a bit of a douche. And his sudden and ambiguous rise to power has got to be hiding something dirty.
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Readnig this story I had my suspicions, but this comment cements it.
You, sir/madam, are a genius.
Upvote, fave, all that good stuff