I don’t usually watch commercials, unless it’s the panorama of sales pitches during the Super Bowl. And then only so that I can give my unqualified opinion the next day of the best and worst offerings. But I recently heard the word “library” on TV and perked up my ears to find out that the Ford Edge is “library quiet” and that it “beat the Lexus RS 350 in a quiet test.”
Edge is the crossover SUV that Ford built to appeal to its protype “Phil.” Phil, as defined by Ford, is an “educated urban professional with tastes that are slightly avant–garde but not too much so. Phil and his wife pull in $85,000. Phil buys his clothes at Banana Republic and drinks Samuel Adams beer.” (see CNN, Oct 22, 2006) And Phil is looking for “quiet.”
Now a lot of librarians are trying to shed the “shhhh” image, and tout their library as a happening place, where you might even be lucky enough to see DDR (Dance, Dance Revolution for the uninitiated) in the teen room. So what’s with the high value of quiet?
I think that the Phils of the word (as well as Phyllis) crave quiet. Phil/lys has enough of the noise and stress of the word and welcomes that embracing quiet of the library. Like the library where we went to study when the dormitory got too loud. I think there’s a message here for libraries — one I see many embracing. While the library is busy, and has lots going on, it’s good to have a space where we safeguard quiet and maybe even put up a sign “this room, quiet please!”