The London Review of Books personal advertisements have always fascinated me, though I must make it clear that I browse them in a spirit of disinterested academic enquiry. Recently my eye was caught by this one:
My profile here boasts the index carding skills of Miss Marple, the sexual ambiguity of Tank Girl and the wardrobe of Cadfael. Kinky junior librarian (F. 34), lurking in the boondocks of XY9802, tripping over re-evaluations of Nick Cave in back issues of Parallax and her own hem line, WLTM nice academic man or woman to 40 unphased by evening wear once described as “Mrs Doyle Does Dallas”. No Linguists.
I wonder who she is? It is almost tempting to reply to find out which member of this great profession of ours placed it. Instead, I shall scour the Yearbook for clues.
Libraries and librarians figure frequently in the LRB personals, and a not very rigourous analysis identifies various modes:
1. Libraries as a place for encounters: For example:
We brushed hands in the British Library, then again in the London Review Bookshop, reaching for Musil. And then once more on the tube, getting off at Ladbroke Grove. Serial random hand-brusher (F, 32, publicity exec) demands attention, followed by more attention, followed by extended periods of self-pity. It's all me, me, me at box no [...]
2. On the other hand, libraries may be used for more legitimate purposes than hand-brushing:
I spent an entire day in the British Library sourcing obscure reference material to cite in this ad, then I lost it all when I stopped off at Burger King on the way home. Man, 34.
3. Librarians, alas usually female, may be objects of desire:
Librarian-looking punk, 34, seeks punkette-looking librarian.
4. Librarians themselves advertise, sometimes sounding disillusioned with their careers:
‘All he needs are some psychiatric treatments to reduce the strength and regularity of his biorhythmic brain explosion episodes. For one so young, his powers of telekinesis are far beyond that of any project we’ve developed so far. His brain has the power to rule the world. It may cause you some problems at home, but the benefits of the bionic mind far outweigh the pitfalls.’ My school report, 1979 (Porton Down Preparatory School). So much promise then, look at me now. Ex-superhero, now librarian (M, 31) seeks solvent woman to 35 for scrabble, real ale, and spontaneous morphing. Wilts.
What is your favourite preserved body part? Mine is the diseased bladder of Italian biologist, Lazzaro Spallanzani (currently on display in the Scarpa Room in the University of Pavia). This, and many more conversation killers available from librarian and failed travel agent F, 32, Northampton.
It’s a jungle out there! Confused librarian.
4. Library users may offer valuable insights into our services, and may sometimes exhibit antagonistic attitudes towards library staff:
Gynotikolobomassophile (M, 43) seeks neanimorphic F to 60 to share euneirophrenia. Must enjoy pissing off librarians (and be able to provide the correct term for same).
When the authorities eventually remove this covert recording device from my brain, they’ll be able to download not only the most profound musings on the universe ever conceived by man but also possibly the whereabouts of my car keys. Until then paranoid amateur tailor (M, 37, Warwickshire) remains unable to take these cross-stitch manuals back to the library. The chirps and whistles aren’t getting any quieter, and the fines aren’t getting any smaller, but this dog-fur suit is sewing up a storm at box no. [...]That’s not revulsion you’re feeling right now – it’s passion (or possibly it is revulsion).
I am grateful to Whatever it Was, I was Against It, where some of these examples, and more, may be found. The LRB's own anthology of the ads, They Call Me Naughty Lola is highly recommended.
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