It would, therefore, seem to be one of the duties of the organizer to prove to the superintendent that even if three-fifths of his patients are illiterate, reading should be provided for the educated two-fifths; that she, from her knowledge of books and editions, can provide a thoroughly readable library which will meet the requirements of all classes, from college professors to the dregs of humanity, for a much less sum than he can do it, and from her experience she can interest the patients in books. For after you have the library, you still have a set of people to deal with who lack initiative and must be aroused to interest in anything. She must also impress upon him that shelf-and-book or even accession numbers mean nothing, and that when, as in one library I know, all the books are covered and there is no hint of author or title on the back, the library is converted into a sort of literary grab-bag which is funny to the librarian but exasperating to the patient. She must convince him that an unclassified library represents a tremendous waste, especially when it is not supplemented by a subject catalog. She must be able to prove to him from the experience of other hospitals that the old-fashioned method of letting a library run itself is not conducive to growth and that there must be some one whose chief duties are to the library. She can assure him from figures that he is not getting out of his library what he should, if out of 1,000 patients only 60 use the library during the year and 50 books a week is a large circulation. She can tell him of one hospital of 220 patients which has from 75 to 100 regular readers, not counting nurses and employees, and averages 25 books a day, or 8,900 a year; of another of about the same size which often gives out 50 books a day; of a third, which, with a population of 2,000 gave out last year 15,862 volumes to 344 persons. She can guarantee him that if he will let her weed out obsolete stuff and fill in with the sort of books the patients want and train some patient, nurse or stenographer to act as librarian in her absence at other hospitals, his library circulation will be doubled or trebled the first year.
Having convinced the superintendent of the utility of the organized, central library, the institution librarian is now free to turn her attention to the patients, getting acquainted with them, learning their tastes in books, interesting them in reading and in pictures. And just here I would say that in the state hospitals the doctors are always glad to have anything new suggested in the way of employment, and that if the organizer can manage it so that the patients can help her in the care of the charging-system, mending and cataloging, her efforts will be much appreciated by all concerned.
The institution organizer will soon find that each hospital differs from every other in construction, management, and especially in the character of illness. The asylums for the chronic insane present the most hopeless feature, yet even here there are enough who read to make it worth while to furnish libraries. Moreover, in the asylums, the nurses have to be taken into account. Their work is so hopeless and uninteresting compared with that in hospitals for acute and recoverable cases that more must be done for them in order to get and keep even ordinarily good attendants. And where, as in many cases, the chronic insane are being transferred to farm colonies way out in the country, far from any city or even large town, the library can, if it will, help very decidedly by offering means of study and education to the nurses and staff as well as diversion to the patients. Therefore, one can venture to buy for an asylum a much better selection of books from the point of view of general culture than for the ordinary hospital.
I have said so often that a hospital library must be formed for entertainment, not for education, that it must be simple in organization and carried along on unconventional lines, that I speak of these points again only to emphasize them. If one looks upon institutional work from the point of view of educative influence it is discouraging work; but if one thinks of it as an adjunct to the therapeutic service of the hospital, as a means of bringing some pleasure or at least forgetfulness of self for a time to an afflicted class and employment for hours which otherwise would be passed in complete idleness and utter dejection, it is inspiring work. But in the selection of books this point of view must be kept always in mind.
Yet this is just what those unaccustomed to hospital conditions fail to grasp. Not three months ago a hospital in a far-off western city sent a representative to see our library and get all the information he could in regard to the sort of books they should put into their beautiful and expensive new buildings. I showed him a list of some 1,200 of our most popular books selected as a basis for the little catalog Miss Carey, Miss Robinson, Miss Waugh and I have made out and annotated, and which is now being printed by the A. L. A. Publishing Board. The first thing he noticed was the omissions. "Why," said he, looking at Science, "you have nothing by Spencer, or Darwin or Huxley on this list. Aren't they the standard thing? Oughtn't I to get them for our library?" "Not if you want a library which will be read," was my prompt reply, and I showed him the records of our sets of these scientists, taken out at the most three or four times in the history of the library.
A year or so ago I attempted to find out from our cards just what was the most popular sort of fiction in our library. Of course the book of the moment is the one read at the moment, so it would be manifestly unfair to include these and I took only those books published prior to 1901. It may interest you to know in their order the 25 most read books, that is, of the old favorites. The date unfortunately excludes Mr. Pratt, the Virginian, Kim, Rex Beach and Oppenheim. They are, The Choir Invisible, Janice Meredith, Saracinesca, Sant' Ilario, Don Orsino, Vanity Fair, The Lilac Sunbonnet, Old Chester Tales, Dr. Lavender's People, When Knighthood was in Flower, The Sowers—taken out 20 times in the last three years; The Seats of the Mighty, The Battle of the Strong, Adventures of Sherlock Holmes, Memoirs of Sherlock Holmes, Treasure Island, Cape Cod Folks and The Right of Way, 22 times; A Little Moorland Princess, Dorothy Vernon, Kidnapped and The Cardinal's Snuff Box 25 times; Richard Carvel 29 times; The Old Ma'amselle's Secret 40 times and The Second Wife by Miss Marlitt 43 times. This shows pretty conclusively that even our people, all of whom belong to the cultivated and educated class, want light, interesting stories of romance and adventure, and the average state hospital reader wants something even lighter than these.
I have been asked again and again if the right reading really cures. One dare not affirm this; its influence is negative rather than positive. But I can say this: I have known of many cases outside as well as in the hospital where persons have been positively harmed by morbid or hysterically sentimental books. Our people are inclined to be pretty emotional anyway, and whatever appeals to that side is to be deplored.
To sum up the qualities which determine the suitability of books for a hospital library, I can do no better than quote from the "Foreword" of the catalog mentioned above:
In making this list the editors have endeavored to keep in mind the following points: