Outrage at the Library

Every time I arrive in France, I put my cultural game face on. Some things are just different here, and I can accept that. Did I not behave admirably during the Great Banking Crisis?

And then, in the midst of my "it's not wrong, it's just different" calm, something happens that is just plain wrong. I give you: the municipal library.

First of all, this allegedly "public" library requires a subscription; I got the high-end, 20-euro a year plan, and this "all-inclusive" plan means that I can have no more than 10 documents in my keeping, which includes a maximum of 5 books and 2 DVDs at a single time.

They have a respectable selection of English-language books, which is excellent, but not what you'd call new releases. Looks like I'll be reading lots of stuff I managed to weasel out of in high school and college: Fitzgerald, Hemingway, Faulkner and the like. (Silver Lining: It turns out I really like Hemingway. Who knew?) For French titles, they have fantastic theme-based lists in cute little binders at the end of the stacks, only it turns out the library owns very few of the books listed there.

Despite all this, I was still down with the French library. I took my handful of books and went home, where I spent the next couple of weeks reading the English books and avoiding the French ones; then, since I was going into town, I figured I'd drop off my materials and get some more.

And then it happened: the Cultural Moment. I cannot speak for all of France, naturally, but at the main library in Le Mans, one is required to stand in line to return materials. Outrageous! Why, why why should I have to stand around with my finger up my nose while Captain Single Dad and each of his four offspring slowly unpack their book bags and the one lady at the check-in counter carefully inspects each book, CD and DVD for damage? ARE YOU FOR REAL??

Yes, they are indeed for real. I was feeling saucy enough to ask if waiting is really a requirement, which got me a Nasty Librarian Look (the one over the top of the glasses, you know what I'm talking about) and a sour suggestion that I be a little patient.

Thus I had to stand there, holding my two little books, while Child 3 whined at dad over whether or not she really had to return the Smurf book because Child 2 had stolen it and poor little 3 had never even had the chance to read it which is not fair!

I finally was able to advance to the front of the line, surrender my books, and soothe my agitated nerves in the CD room. This made me happy, especially once I realized they have listening posts where you can put on headphones and preview the CD before you check it out. Aww, library, you're so thoughtful. All was forgiven. We were friends again.

And then Captain Single Dad was in front of me in the checkout line.