Philip Harvey
An unkind
academic once said of a colleague that his library was arranged by the colour
of the books. The implication of this remark was that his colleague never read
any of the books on his shelves. There also seemed to be the added implication
that he spent most of his time arranging the books to look like a paint chart,
because he had nothing else to do.
Experience
frequently teaches us otherwise. The strongest and most used of the five senses
is that of vision, which is why when we are asked for a book, or are looking
about for one in a sizable library, the colour of the cover is an essential guide,
if we know the book already. Then, there are publishers’ series and encyclopaedic
sets renowned for their black or purple appearance. We think of the Penguin
Classics or Britannica.
There was a
time when a cheap laugh could be secured, during a reference question, when the
librarian said that the enquirer was looking for you know that light blue book,
I had it just the other day. This is no longer such a joke, after years of
finding a book on the shelf primarily by the distinctive colour of its spine,
especially when that book is shelved out of order.
“Have you
got that book by Merton? It’s the green one,” no longer draws an inaudible groan
from the librarian, because green may be all we have to go on. Or, the enquiry
may be for that very famous green book by Merton, or the only green book by
Merton. Sometimes I myself can walk without hesitation straight to the green
book of Merton’s, never mind the call number. It remains a truth well-attested,
that colour is frequently the one thing about a book that the user remembers.
Arrangement
of books by colour has historical credibility. There are collectors who bind or
cover their books in different shades to distinguish by subject or trait. Until
recently every academic library bound its periodicals in distinctive binder’s
colours to help separate runs on the shelf. And some of the most elegant
private libraries in the world have their books covered in certain colours in
order to match the décor or design plan of the bibliographical dreamer. To make
their books ‘invisible’ in a living space, collectors are known to wrap their
books completely in white. Many rare books collections follow this model to
this day.
Classification
by colour is another matter. How would that work? The larger the library the
greater the distinctions of colour we would have to make. It would not be
enough to place all yellow books in Yellow. We would need to line them up in
sequence by sunflower, lemon, amber, gold, blond. Numerical classification at
library school is a cinch compared with this kind of in-depth analysis of the
spectrum. And how would it be recorded in the catalogue? No MARC tag is
available for Colour Classification. The science simply has not taken into
account this most elementary of mental cues. Downloading the cover and putting
it on the record too only tells half the story.
It will
never take on, but the appeal of books arranged by colour is perennial. In a
library not requiring classification, it is a natural tendency. The sight can
be marvellous. Only thing is, we recall too quickly the proverb about not
judging a book by its cover; librarians are governed by content.
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