The Wandering Library of MirMarnia: A Series
Part Ten: Correspondence and Complaints
Being a selection of letters to and from the Library, demonstrating that literacy is not always a blessing.
Compiled by Bramwell Corin, who did not expect the filing cabinet to develop preferences
Editor’s Note
The Wandering Library maintains an active correspondence with various parties across MirMarnia. Some of this correspondence is professional. Some is cordial. Some makes me question whether literacy was, on balance, a good idea.
What follows is a selection of letters received and sent over the past six months. I have organised them by category. The categories themselves tell a story, though not one I particularly wish to tell.
Mistress Spine has reviewed these and declared them “suitable for archive.” Pip has read them and laughed until he wept. I am including both responses in the permanent record.
Category One: Letters from Concerned Citizens
Letter received 3rd February
To Whom It May Concern,
Your establishment appeared in my turnip field on Tuesday last and remained there for three days. Whilst I appreciate that a library must go where it pleases, I must inform you that your building frightened my chickens, who have not laid properly since.
Additionally, one of your footprints remains in my north field, glowing faintly and attracting tourists. I am a turnip farmer, not a curator of magical phenomena. Please remove your footprint at your earliest convenience.
Yours in frustration, Harwell Crumb, Turnip Farmer (Third Generation)
Library’s Response (Dictated to Bramwell)
Dear Mr Crumb,
We apologise for the distress caused to your chickens. Please find enclosed a pamphlet entitled “Coping with Architectural Anxiety: A Guide for Poultry.” We have found it useful in previous incidents.
Regarding the footprint: I am afraid removal is not possible. The footprints are a natural consequence of ambulatory architecture and will fade in their own time. This typically takes between three weeks and seventeen years. We suggest charging admission to tourists and investing the proceeds in chicken therapy.
With sincere regards for your turnips,
The Management
Pip’s Commentary:
The phrase “chicken therapy” made me laugh so hard I couldn’t breathe. Bramwell dictated that with a completely straight face. When I asked if chicken therapy was real, he said, “It is now,” and refused to elaborate.
The pamphlet is real, by the way. Dame Pellifrax wrote it after the Great Chicken Incident. It contains actual advice. I’ve read it. It’s surprisingly thorough.
Letter received 18th February
Dear Library,
I visited your establishment last month and borrowed a book entitled “The Philosophy of Regret.” I have been unable to return it, as every time I approach your doors, the book grows heavier until I am forced to set it down and rest.
I believe the book does not wish to be returned. What am I to do?
Sincerely,
A Troubled Borrower
Library’s Response (Dictated to Bramwell)
Dear Troubled Borrower,
The book has clearly found your company preferable to our shelves. This is both flattering to you and insulting to us.
We suggest the following:
Ask the book politely if it intends to return
If it says no (through weight increase or general sulking), accept that you now own a book about regret
This seems thematically appropriate
The late fee is waived on grounds of philosophical irony.
Regards,
The Management
Pip’s Commentary:
I asked Bramwell if books often refuse to return, and he said, “More often than you’d think,” which is somehow more disturbing than a simple yes.
The book never came back. We have marked it “Lost to Philosophy” in our records. Mistress Spine says this happens approximately six times per year. Books develop attachments. Apparently, this is normal.
Though I have begun to wonder whether anything here would qualify as normal anywhere else, and I think the answer is probably no.
Category Two: Complaints from the Books Themselves
Complaint filed on 4th March
(Found on front desk, written in margins that appeared overnight)
To Management,
I wish to lodge a formal complaint regarding my shelf placement. I am currently positioned between “The Joy of Giving Up” and “Embracing Mediocrity,” which I find personally offensive. I am a book about ambition and excellence. This is hostile shelving.
Please relocate me immediately.
Signed,
“Reaching Your Full Potential: A Guide”
Library’s Response
(Written by Mistress Spine)
Your complaint has been noted. Your current shelf placement is alphabetical by subject: Self-Improvement, subsection Realistic Expectations. You are exactly where you belong.
Regards,
M. Spine,
Head Librarian
Book’s Response
(Appeared the following morning)
I reject alphabetisation in favour of aspiration.
Library’s Final Response
(Also written by Mistress Spine)
Rejection noted. Shelf placement unchanged. Accept your circumstances with grace.
Pip’s Commentary:
The book sulked for a week. It refused to open for anyone. Mistress Spine walked past it every morning and said “Good morning” in the most pointed tone I’ve ever heard. The book eventually opened again, though you can tell it’s still cross.
I sympathise, actually. Being told you belong between “Giving Up” and “Mediocrity” would wound anyone. Even a book.
Complaint filed on 12th March
(Delivered via strongly worded footnote)
I am lodging a complaint regarding the book “Windward: A Comprehensive Study,” which has been producing digestive noises at all hours and creating an olfactory situation I can only describe as “hostile to neighbouring volumes.”
I am a respected treatise on classical music and deserve better shelf companions.
Remove the offending volume immediately.
Signed,
“The Refined Art of Orchestral Arrangement”
Library’s Response
(Dictated by Bramwell through gritted teeth)
Your complaint is understandable but rejected. “Windward” is a permanent addition to our collection. We suggest developing tolerance.
The Management
Book’s Response
(Footnote, heavily underlined)
TOLERANCE HAS LIMITS.
Follow-up Note
(From “Windward” itself, delivered via well-timed flatulence that somehow spelt out words in the air):
So does patience with pompous neighbours.
Pip’s Commentary:
They’re still arguing. Every morning I come in, and new footnotes appear in both books. Classical Music called Windward “uncouth.” Windward responded with a sound lasting forty-five seconds that I can only describe as “rebuttal.”
Bramwell tried to separate them. Both books returned to their original positions by morning. I think they enjoy the argument, actually. Enemies need each other.
I tried explaining this to Bramwell, and he said, “That’s philosophy, Pip, not cataloguing,” and I said, “Everything is philosophy if you’re sufficiently tired,” and he didn’t disagree.
Category Three: Letters Regarding Specific Incidents
Letter received 23rd of March
To the Proprietors of the Wandering Library,
I must protest in the strongest possible terms regarding the behaviour of your building last Tuesday. I was conducting important surveying work when your library positioned itself directly atop my benchmark, rendering six weeks of measurements entirely useless.
When I asked your building to move, it did not. When I asked more firmly, it shifted precisely three inches to the left, which helped no one and seemed deliberately unhelpful.
I demand compensation for the time I wasted.
Most Displeased,
Surveyor G. Marchmont
Library’s Response
(Dictated by Bramwell with obvious satisfaction)
Dear Surveyor, Marchmont,
Our records indicate you referred to our building as “an oversized garden shed with delusions of grandeur” approximately four minutes before requesting its relocation. The building has excellent hearing and a long memory.
The three-inch shift was, we believe, the building expressing its feelings about being compared to garden storage.
No compensation will be provided. We suggest apologising to buildings before asking favours of them.
Regards,
The Management
P.S. The building has asked me to convey that it is “architecturally significant” and “not to be trifled with.”
Pip’s Commentary:
I was there when this happened. The surveyor called the Library a garden shed, and I actually gasped, because you don’t insult buildings that can hear you. That’s just common sense.
The Library moved three inches left and then stayed put for six solid hours. The surveyor got increasingly frustrated. At one point, he tried to physically push the building. Bramwell watched from a window, eating a biscuit. It was beautiful.
Eventually, the surveyor left. The Library stayed exactly where it was for another day, then moved on. Spite, apparently, takes time.
Category Four: Correspondence with Other Institutions
Letter received 2nd of April
(On official letterhead)
To the Wandering Library,
It has come to our attention that you have in your collection a first edition of “Cartographical Ethics” which rightfully belongs to the Royal Archives. We have documentation proving our ownership and request its immediate return.
Failure to comply will result in legal action.
Sincerely,
The Royal Archivist
Library’s Response
(Written by Mistress Spine)
Dear Royal Archivist,
We have examined our records. The book in question came to us of its own accord in 1847 after, according to its own testimony, “growing tired of being locked in a basement with inadequate lighting.”
The book does not wish to return. We have asked it. It said no by remaining firmly closed for three days whenever your name was mentioned.
We suggest that institutions wishing to retain books might consider treating them better.
With all due respect for your inadequate basement lighting,
Mistress Q. Spine,
Head Librarian
Follow-up Letter
(Received one week later)
The book may stay. Please destroy all evidence of this correspondence.
The Royal Archivist
Pip’s Commentary:
Mistress Spine framed both letters and hung them in her office. When I asked why, she said, “As a reminder that books have preferences and institutions should respect them.”
The book is very happy here. It sits in the Reference section looking smug. Occasionally, other books from the Royal Archives appear, also escaping inadequate basements. We don’t ask questions. We just provide shelf space and decent lighting.
Other libraries might find this alarming. I find it rather touching. Books vote with their spines, apparently, and this one voted emphatically.
Category Five: Thank You Notes (Filed under “Unexpected Politeness”)
Letter received 15th of April
Dear Library,
I visited you last month whilst desperately lost in the Frostborne territories. Your building appeared quite suddenly in a snowstorm, and your staff provided tea, directions, and a book on “Navigation for Those Who Should Have Stayed Home.”
The book was both helpful and insulting. I appreciated this.
Thank you for not letting me freeze to death.
Gratefully,
A Survivor
Library’s Response
(Dictated by Pip, who was very pleased)
Dear Survivor,
We are delighted you did not freeze. The book chose itself for you, which means it recognised a fellow traveller who makes poor decisions but somehow survives them.
The Library appears where it is needed. You were needed. So were we.
Stay warm and make better choices.
With warm regards (literally),
The Staff
Bramwell’s Commentary:
This is the sort of letter that makes the work worthwhile. Someone didn’t freeze. A book helped. The Library did what it does best: appeared at exactly the right moment with exactly the right information.
Pip cried when he dictated the response. He claims it was allergies. It was not allergies.
Category Six: Letters We Wish We Had Not Received
Letter received 20th of April
Dear Library,
Do you have any books on dragon behaviour? Asking urgently. Please respond quickly. Very quickly. It’s quite large and getting closer.
Help,
Someone in a Tree
Library’s Response
(Dictated at speed by Bramwell)
STAY IN THE TREE. DO NOT MOVE. DO NOT MAKE EYE CONTACT. WE ARE SENDING REFERENCES VIA EMERGENCY DISPATCH.
(Three books on dragon diplomacy were catapulted from the nearest window in the direction of the writer’s approximate location. We received no further correspondence. We are hoping this indicates success rather than tragedy.)
Pip’s Commentary:
I was the one who catapulted the books. Bramwell showed me the letter and just pointed at the window and said, “Now, Pip,” and I grabbed books and threw them, and we watched them arc through the air towards some distant trees, and Bramwell said, “That will either help or simply provide reading material during their final moments.”
We received a follow-up letter a week later saying, “Thank you, the books helped, the dragon was surprisingly reasonable.” So apparently our catapult-based book delivery system works. I’m adding this to my list of skills.
Category Seven: Correspondence That Defies Classification
Letter received 28th of April
(Written on what appears to be tree bark)
Dear Walking Book House,
You stood near my oak for three days. During this time, seventeen of your humans touched my bark without asking permission. This is rude.
Please teach your humans manners.
Regards,
An Oak (Very Old)
Library’s Response
(Dictated by Bramwell after consulting with Mistress Spine)
Dear Oak,
You are absolutely right. Our humans have been reminded about arboreal etiquette. Please accept our apologies.
We stood near you because you have excellent roots and seemed patient. Thank you for tolerating our presence.
With respect for your age and wisdom,
The Library
(A memo was immediately posted in the staff room: “Do not touch trees without permission. Apparently, this needed saying.”)
Pip’s Commentary:
I was one of the seventeen humans who touched the oak. I didn’t know I needed permission. I apologised to the oak personally when we next passed it. The oak rustled its leaves, which I interpreted as “apology accepted, but don’t do it again.”
I now ask permission before touching any tree. Bramwell says this is excessive. Bramwell also asks permission before touching trees now. I’ve seen him do it. He does it quietly, under his breath, when he thinks no one is watching.
I am absolutely watching.
Concluding Remarks
The Wandering Library receives approximately forty letters per month. Most are enquiries about books. Some are complaints about our building’s behaviour. A few are thank-you notes that restore one’s faith in literacy. And occasionally, we receive letters from Oaks asking us to teach our humans better manners.
This is what passes for normal correspondence in our institution.
I have filed everything appropriately. The books have opinions about the filing system. The filing cabinet has started expressing preferences about which letters it will accept. Yesterday, it refused to hold the Royal Archivist’s letter until I promised to keep it away from anything flammable.
Even our furniture has standards now.
The tea helps. Though I note the teapot has begun corresponding with Dame Pellifrax about weather patterns. I found a letter from it this morning, written in steam on the window. It had better handwriting than Pip.
I have written back. This seemed only courteous. I am not certain what I have started.
Final Notes (Added by Mistress Spine)
Bramwell’s compilation is thorough. The correspondence reveals much about how the world perceives us: with confusion, occasional gratitude, and frequent exasperation.
This seems appropriate.
Also, I have received a letter from “The Definitive Truth About Everything” demanding that I acknowledge its intellectual superiority in all future correspondence. I have filed this under “Absurd Requests” and moved on with my life.
Additional Notes (Added by Pip Thimble)
My favourite letter was from the person in the tree. Not because of the dragon situation (though that was exciting) but because they wrote “help” and we actually helped and they survived, and that’s what libraries are supposed to do, isn’t it? Help people who need it, even if they need it urgently, whilst hiding from dragons.
Also, I’ve started a collection of unusual correspondence. So far, I have: one letter from an oak, one letter written entirely in footnotes, one letter that arrived before it was sent (we’re not discussing that one), and seventeen complaint letters from “The Definitive Truth About Everything,” which apparently sends one per week now.
Bramwell says my collection is “a waste of filing space.” But he’s the one who made a special folder for them labelled “Epistolary Oddities,” so actually he’s as bad as I am.
Compiled over six months of varied correspondence. The Library has read all letters addressed to it. The Library has opinions about several of them. The Library expressed these opinions by relocating the filing cabinet. We have interpreted this as “acceptable record-keeping, continue as before.” The tea remains excellent. The teapot is now in active correspondence with three separate parties and shows no signs of stopping. We are not questioning our good fortune.