SWF looking for good reference librarian

I am a librarian’s daughter. My sister and I were raised between the stacks. Our mother left it up to us to either be bored or learn to read. We read. My sister was inclined toward smut. But the trashy romance genre was not for me; I was enthralled by non-fiction. History — real people, real events.

Most of the information that I have stored over the years has become disjointed and most was always completely useless to anyone else. But sometimes it amazes me the little jewels I have retained. I’m not bragging. It is a disease. I am obsessive about needing all the facts. Something will pique my interest and I feel obligated to exhaust every resource.

Once upon a time I was fascinated by Byron and his madness. This led to a fascination with the equally troubled Lady Caroline Lamb. I read everything I could find. But one book was not to be found. I had to get my hands on a copy of Glenarvon ^[1], Lamb’s scandalous novel written after their affair. I nagged the reference librarian at the local library until he finally found a copy through interlibrary loan. This process took several painful weeks and the anticipation seemed nearly unbearable, but the wait was thrilling — much like waiting for those sea-monkeys.

Why was I fixated on these people? I don’t remember. Perhaps it was my tender age and the tragedy of unrequited love. More likely, I was a hormonal teenage girl and Lamb was an infamous nympho. But damn it, at least my smut was real historical smut!

Today, my memory has been filtered to the knowledge that the book had something to do with Irish republicanism, Glenarvon (Byron) and Lady Calantha (Lamb) were a tragic pair in both their real and fictional incarnations, and Glenarvon was a truly horrible book. Possibly one of the worst ever written. But — and here’s the jewel — I actually know that.

Upon being asked my humble opinion, I could quite complacently proclaim, “Well, Glenarvon, of course, was the worst book ever written!”

I wasn’t disappointed. I got what I wanted — much unlike the sea-monkeys that turned out to be naked worm-like creatures that did not wear hair bows or little golden crowns.

Thus I have a deep appreciation for the art of reference. But times have changed. Since the advent of the internet I no longer have to nag and be a nuisance at my local library. The thrill of tracking down an elusive tidbit is all but gone. Almost everything I ever wanted to know is available with the stroking of a few strategic keywords.  When it is not? No worries. There is always Dave Lull — a jewel.

P.S. I love you Dave. Are you married?