Lion Cubs

On a beautiful spring night last week picture story teller Ben Katchor came to Mid-Manhattan to do a reading of his work. I had asked Ben Katchor to come do a program almost a year ago and through many correspondences and date changes Wednesday, May 7th finally arrived. To be honest, I discovered Ben Katchor a few months before I had invited him to speak at the library. In a conversation with a friend, his name was mentioned as someone I should come to know. Ben Katchor I learned is a comic strip creator unlike any before.

His comic strips reveal the absurdity of everyday life. He presents wonderfully drawn scenes, using characters who are quintessentially human. The characters, sometimes subtle and sometimes not, always pack an ironic punch. Katchor has the uncanny ability to show the funny side of the ordinary, the mundane and the pedestrian. His work focuses on the parts the rest of us don’t think about until we happen to read one of his comic strips. The obvious we take for granted is the palette Ben works from. This is where the beauty of Ben Katchor’s work lies. I admire and enjoy his intuitive understanding of what can be funny… for Ben Katchor it is anything.

Ben Katchor has been making comics strips for years and his work has been in many publications, currently his work can be found in Metropolis Magazine. He has published a number of books and written operas. He is constantly working. I was a bit nervous about meeting him because of his stature. He was the recipient of the MacArthur Foundation Fellowship Award, a 500,000 dollar Genius Grant, an award aimed at gifted and largely unrecognized talents. Ben Katchor is a big name and I was enormously proud when he came to Mid-Manhattan to do a reading.

At 6:15 PM the room was filling nicely. I stood at my usual spot in the hallway, greeting the people as they arrived. Ben came into the hallway at one point and we chatted briefly. I discovered he was pleasantly warm and easy to talk to. He expressed pleasure and appreciation of the people arriving. At 6:35 PM my programming director, Debbie Hirsch, suggested we begin. I ushered Ben into the room. I told him I would introduce him and then he could begin. At 6:40 PM I stood at the podium and read my introduction. I then turned the stage over to Ben Kacthor and the lights went dark.

Ben Katchor’s work is wonderful on paper. However Ben’s reading of his panels, displayed huge on a screen is truly special. Frame after frame in beautiful colors appeared in front of us. The written narrative normally seen in his comic strips was hidden from view. Ben read the narratives aloud, in the most calm and understated manner, he then punctuated the narrative with the animated voices of the characters. The audience responded with appreciative laughter throughout the program. 70 people attended a most enjoyable and intimate event.

Picture Story: The Call of the Wall by Ben Katchor

Links to articles on Ben Katchor: Bomb Magazine, Identity Theory

Programming is great. Not only do I get to select the programs I present, I am then rewarded 10 fold by attending interesting and entertaining programs and I get paid for it! What could be better? About a year ago I happened to be reading Christopher Gray’s Streetscapes column in the Real Estate Section of the Sunday New York Times. It is the first column I read in the Sunday paper. Generally the focus of the Streetscapes column is a building. However on Sunday, April 29, 2007 Christopher Gray did something quite different. On that day the Streetscapes column was devoted to a man, Paul Shaw. Mr. Shaw is a designer and design historian, specializing in architectural lettering.

The subject of the article was completely new to me and I found it fascinating, exciting even. In the article Christopher Gray went on a walking tour with Paul Shaw whose focus was on letters: letters on buildings, in the subway and on monuments, letters which appear everywhere in the city. After reading the article I had experienced a visual revelation, allowing me to see beyond my pedestrian eyes. I found myself looking anew at buildings, monuments and signs that before I would glance over.

I knew Paul Shaw would present a wonderful program and decided to invite him to come speak at the library. I contacted Christopher Gray and inquired about Mr. Shaw. Christopher confirmed my thoughts about Paul Shaw and happily provided me with contact information. After receiving Mr. Shaw’s email address I wrote a lengthy email to him, introducing myself and what I do, followed by a polite request for him to come speak at the library. My wishes were granted with a response of “yes, I’d be happy to speak at the library!”

Months went by and then came the creation of the promotional materials for the program. There was further correspondence between Paul and I about content and title of the program. Initially there was some confusion between Paul and I about what the title should be for the program. Paul’s title was, how should I say, not the most exciting it should be to attract an audience. Paul’s title seemed geared to a specific audience, with perhaps more expertise in the field of typographic design, definitely not appropriate for a general audience. We went back and forth on this discussion for a few more emails till Paul understood what I had been politely trying to tell him. We want people to come to the program, not avoid it. “Oh” he said. “You want something more jazzy sounding.” “Yep, exactly!” I said. The next title fell right into the perfect range of jazzy/sexy. Then came the wrangling with the look of the flyer. Naturally Paul wanted to see everything and I was happy to oblige. He is a designer and I was told by my supervisors to expect it. This is not necessarily a bad thing, but it can be problematic. We create an effective, nice looking flyer, with an already established template. It was initially created with lots of input from present and former employees. Hence we produce a solid looking flyer. Many of our patrons have told me how handsome the flyers look and I take this as a good sign. Paul made some comments and some changes and I tried to appease his requests. Finally we came to an agreement on an appropriate flyer that he could be happy with. Phew!

The night of the event we got our biggest crowd ever, 135 attended. And Paul Shaw did not disappoint. If ever there was a blockbuster program, this was it! Paul worked hard on his presentation, you could tell. He had us on the edge of our seats. He presented a program in three parts: letters in the subways, letters on apartment buildings and finally letters on department stores (Paul Shaw counts Lord & Taylor as a former client). Interesting stories, as well as a bit of design theory and history melded into a fascinating and visually exhilarating experience. It's all in a letter, I just never knew how much. Paul Shaw will be coming back in the fall to do another program. I hope you can attend!

Generally in the same subject area, I have included a review of Helvetica, Gary Hustwit’s 2007 documentary that uses the legendary typeface to weave a broader story about typography, graphic design and visual culture in the last half-century.

My father moved into my Brooklyn home about 10 years ago when my mother died, and thus began my career as his personal librarian. When he first moved to Brooklyn, I showed him how to use the bus system so he could travel to and from the Brooklyn Central Library. I gave him a simplified explanation of the Dewey system; telling him what I tell everyone who comes to the reference desk, “think of the number as the address where the subject or book lives on the shelf.” I knew my father’s reading preferences very well and it was with assurance that I sent him to the 940’s to find exactly what he would like. For the most part he took care of his reading material himself, with his weekly jaunts to the library. I would pepper his selections with other books I thought he might enjoy from the collections at Mid-Manhattan. Favorites in the category were Samuel Pepys: The Unequaled Self by Claire Tomalin , Sweet and Low: A Family Story by Rich Cohen, Wild Swans:Three Daughters of China by Jung Chang, The Color of Love: A Mother’s Choice in the Jim Crow South by Gene Cheek and much more. His reading was varied, but mainly it was WWII history he loved and always non-fiction. While at my house he watched no TV. My father just read for his entertainment. As far as I could tell he loved it.

A year and half ago my father became quite ill. I had noticed he did not seem himself so I forced him to go the doctor. I was informed that my father was very sick with congestive heart failure, a common affliction of the elderly. He was so sick there was cause for concern whether he would even live. For 10 days I maintained a presence at the hospital. I sadly watched him turn old right before my eyes. I brought him books while at the hospital but they remained unread. I surmised he was distracted by his plight. Naturally he became depressed. Life was now different and he would have to adjust, or not. The trips to the library would now become memories. Within a matter of days his world became miniscule to what it had been. Miles of travel would now be reduced to blocks, if he was lucky. There was nothing neither he nor I could do; this was life, cruel and ironic.

Once home my father tried to manage a hefty depression. He now had to get used to a new self and that new self would be drastically different from a few weeks before. I brought him books, foolishly thinking reading would be a welcome distraction. How wrong I was. The books gathered dust and their beckoning was left unanswered. I finally broke down and bought him a TV and had cable installed. My kids were thrilled and my father became a zombie in front of the blue screen. He watched for hours and would sleep and then watch more. It broke my heart. He seemed unable to focus on a book. Outwardly he seemed fine, but to me he had become a mere shadow of himself. He no longer seemed an active participant in life, but rather a passive ride taker. I became resigned to my new father and just tried to make him comfortable.

There came a time recently when I brought home two books, the book I was reading A Death in the Family by James Agee and Middlesex by Jeffrey Eugenides the book I planned to start reading afterwards. My father is Greek and our family is from Detroit so I made a point of showing him Middlesex because of the Greek author and the Detroit setting for his book.

My father in his old age has developed a keen interest in everything Greek. I thought the Eugenides book would interest him, if not to read then to simply marvel at the author’s heritage. To my surprise it was the Agee book that caught his interest. He said about the Agee book, “I always wanted to read this book.” With that, I said “here pops, take it, you read it.” That was months ago and my father has been reading fiction every since. Perhaps by reading fiction my father has been able to recapture a part of life that he has lost in his own life. Author Paul Theroux once said “fiction gives us a second chance that life denies us.” I bring him mysteries like: Georges Simenon, Henning Mankell, Elmore Leonard and other works of fiction from Ian McEwan to Somerset Maugham and many more. I am happy to be of service to my father for as long as it lasts. I am also so thankful to be working at Mid-Manhattan, with such an incredible collection of fiction to choose from.

Finding journal, magazine and newspaper articles at the New York Public Library largely revolves around use of our electronic databases page . While we still offer several print versions of journals, magazines and newspapers, today electronic databases provide the easiest and most comprehensive access to full text articles.

To begin a search for articles, start at www.nypl.org:

Once at our homepage, simply click on "Articles and Databases," The following page should appear:

This page serves as the launching pad to all of the New York Public Library's electronic resources.
"Federated Searching" - What is that?
At the top of the page you will see:

About six years ago when I started working at the Mid-Manhattan Library in the General Reference Collection, a man came to the desk, wanting a book on New York Public Library history. He said the book was written by a woman. The first book that came to my mind was Phyllis Dain’s New York Public Library: A History of its Founding and Early Years. At that moment I did not know the call number but I knew its location on the shelf. I pulled the book from the shelf and gave it to him. I gestured for him to take a seat and with a smile he walked over to a table. I went back to my seat.

A half hour later, he came to the desk to return the book and thanked me. I asked if he found what he was looking and with that he told me he was giving a lecture at the National Arts Club that evening. He had come to Mid-Manhattan to do a last bit of fact- checking. The topic of his lecture, New York Public Library history in relation to Andrew Haswell Green. Our conversation was not long, but at the end of it I decided to ask him for his business card. “Gladly!” he replied and then pulled the card out of his wallet and handed it to me. We shook hands and said goodbye. I looked at his card carefully, looked at the name. Up to that point though we had engaged in a lively conversation, however we had not exchanged names. The card said in bold lettering “Rediscovering Andrew Haswell Green NYC’s Forgotten Visionary” and under this in small letters was the name Michael Miscione. Almost half the card was taken up with a photo of a man from the neck up, his bearded visage serene, confident. The man, no doubt, Andrew Haswell Green. Once off the desk, I put the card away in my desk and thought about what an interesting hour it had been.

Later I looked up Andrew Haswell Green. He was a very prominent figure among the movers and shakers in New York City in the late 19th century and he was integral to the establishment of Central Park and New York City as we know it today, by combining the boroughs in 1898. Green was instrumental in creating the famous grid of streets and avenues that help to define Manhattan. He also was a major participant in the establishment of The New York Public Library and the Metropolitan Museum. You name it--Haswell was involved in every iconic facet of what we know to be New York City for the latter part of the 19th century. Unfortunately, he was murdered by a crazed individual who mistook him for someone else and his name sank into obscurity. That is until Michael Miscione came along. Michael Miscione has been a one-man force in trying to revive the name Andrew Haswell Green and his importance in New York City History.

I kept Michael Miscione’s card in my desk along with other cards that I felt may somehow be important to me one day. That day came last year, many years after we had first met. When I was asked by my supervisor to begin doing programs in late 2006, I was at first a reluctant participant. Once I started doing programs, I discovered I really liked it and that is where my programming passion began. As I searched for interesting and dynamic programs, my thoughts went all over the place. Everything I read, saw or heard suddenly had an import beyond its initial interest. A potential program was in everything I experienced.

I decided to contact Michael Miscione to speak at the library. I knew he lectured based on our one encounter many years ago. And more important I knew he would be interesting. New York City- related programs are always a draw. We get hundreds of questions about New York City; patrons can’t get enough of the subject, me included.

After many attempts at contacting Michael Miscione, I finally reached him. I relayed the story of how we met many years ago and why I saved his card and ultimately why I was calling him that day. Initially he hesitated and then like a rubber band being shot, he remembered the encounter almost exactly as I did, except he could go onto to remember a really successful lecture he gave that evening at the National Arts Club. I thought to myself “Bingo! Cyn you just got yourself a really good program.” Michael was more than happy to come and speak at the library. I learned that he was the Borough of Manhattan Historian, that he was a filmmaker, and he was in fact as interesting as I found him to be many years before.

Michael Miscione has come twice to speak at the library. The first program he presented in the spring of 2007 was The Combining of the Boroughs of 1898 and the Establishment of New York City. He presented his second program this past February: The People vs. Wayne Boyd: The Murder Trail That Nearly Redrew The Map of New York City.

Both talks were the best that programming could offer. Slide lectures with wonderful historic photographs were supported by a dynamic speaker whose command of his subject takes the viewer on a most exciting intellectual ride. One hundred people attended each program. Michael Miscione will be speaking again on Monday, November 17, 2008. I encourage New York City history enthusiasts to mark their calendars now. You won’t be disappointed!

Early one morning, as I pulled myself up from the bathroom floor with a most terrible headache, I swore an oath to never drink again. I vowed to empty the rest of that demon vodka down the sink, thwarted only by the fact that I had drunk all of it the night before and there was none left to dispose of. I made a promise to myself to remain sober and self-possessed throughout the remainder of my days, and while I have thus far failed miserably in this endeavor, I nonetheless continue to derive strength and inspiration from the many images of drunken folly archived in The Picture Collection. Created during the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, when that most beloved of crusades, the temperance movement, gained particular momentum in the United States and Europe (capped off by that very successful and victorious era in U.S. history known as Prohibition), these images very acutely document the destructive and evil forces of alcohol. When I am overcome with temptation, which is always (I am swigging from a bottle of absinthe right now), I look at these images in order to be reminded of the foolishness of my ways, and now I am posting them online so that you, dear readers, will benefit as well. As these pictures make perfectly clear, without immediate intervention we will all soon be terrible mothers, fathers, wives and husbands, make spectacles of ourselves at fashionable parties, fall into debt and poverty, dress in rags, be mocked and jeered at by children, wind up arrested, in court, in prison and insane, commit murder and/or suicide, and be visited by devils while sleeping in our beds at night. Shall I go on? Of course not – you can see the end results for yourself.

Related: The Picture Collection's images of New York City Saloons

One recent rainy day in the Picture Collection of Mid-Manhattan Library, just shuffling through a fistful of photos, we happened upon this–uh, SIGNED photo of Henry James.

Now we are loathe to confess it, but Mr. James is one of those rare writers of whom we have developed a pronounced preference for the Big Screen versions of his works over the textual alternatives. Who could forget Helena Bonham Carter distractedly roaming the dark streets of Venice in Wings of the Dove? Or Christopher Reeve tripping over the love that dare not speak its name in The Bostonians? Or Cherry Jones’ tour de force as The Heiress? (Okay, it was on the stage, but still…) Despite our lowbrow taste for Mr. James served up as entertainment (well, Colm Toibin’s masterful fiction about James wasn’t exactly an endorsement of Mr. James’ personal character), we were pleased to think we might turn the Berg Collection green with envy–until we examined the signature a little more closely and found ourselves terrified. The pen that signed the portrait scrawled the date: Jan. 3, 1918. Yet the hand that penned the novels last moved in this world on Feb. 28, 1916. So who IS this Miss Jordan, who prompted Mr. James to journey so far from that undiscovered country merely to send her his regards? We also express our admiration for the skill of the photographer, H. Walter Barnett, who has caught perfectly that otherworldly look about the eyes.

(Perhaps the stroke of Mr. James' pen was cramped and the date was actually Jan. 3, 1908? Mind you, I only conjecture....)

The Morgan Library
One of the gems of the city is the Morgan Library located on Madison and 36th Street, literally just around the corner and down the block. I fell in love with the place 26 years ago and I have never stopped loving it. To me it is the one of the most intimate spots in the city, more so before the Renzo Piano reconstruction but still really wonderful.
I like it for a couple reasons: first because the shows are never big; they can’t be. It is always a one-room experience and that is just about right for my eyes. Secondly, to see the actual personal rooms of Morgan never fails to completely humble me to the extent of what great, great wealth can accomplish. Morgan’s rooms take my breath away. If a room had a sound, Morgan’s library would be a cacophony of noise, screaming a beautiful symphony of sound, moving forth in all directions, mingling and mixing and highly organized, nothing left to chance. There is a sparkling brilliance to the library; it is rich in colors, design and textures. You can take it in generally and simply let its beauty surround you or study the detail of this glorious and complex room. It’s all there and never should be missed.
Morgan’s study is a different matter all together. Awash in vermilion and wood, it is serene in comparison, warm and inviting. Despite its grandiose quality, Morgan must have spent many an hour in this room talking about the world with his guests. He is everywhere in the room, you feel him and see him twice on the wall in big handsome portraits. To my surprise, you can now see Belle de Costa Green’s office, Morgan’s first librarian and then longtime director of the Morgan Library. Her room is the smallest but no less elegant. All the rooms are rich and sumptuous, constructed with the finest materials in the world and attest to the power of the man who amassed a fortune and then created one of the premier institutions in the country if not the world. Yeah Morgan!

The current show at the Morgan is Michelangelo, Vasari, and Their Contemporaries: Drawings from the Uffizi
http://www.themorgan.org/exhibitions/default.asp
I decided to go opening night. Normally attending a show on the day it opens would be out of the question, but on Fridays after 7:00 PM The Morgan is free. I decided to give it a shot. I often like to go see an exhibit twice. This is akin to reading a passage a few times over to truly savor its magic and artistry. I was a bit weary when I entered, there was a fairly long line at the coat check and I thought the evening to be doomed. I sidled up to a guard and asked if I needed to check my coat and two bags. He looked at me and my two bags and thought for a minute then said “nah, you can go on in.” Happily I pushed through the big glass door that takes you to the gallery and then to my delight I entered the gallery and it was not crowded. I could view the exhibition unfettered–always a plus.
I am not an expert in drawing, I don’t understand the traditions and could not tell you about the influences. What I will say is that drawing often allows you to see the inner workings of the artist and it always reveals the subtle yet extremely powerful skill of the artist; it can be the draftsmanship or the emotion or feeling the artist was able to impart to the picture. Drawing is spare but the level of complexity that can be achieved with very few materials always astounds me. In any show there are always favorites and for me there were a few.
Giovanni Stradanus’ The Allegory of the Immortality of Poetry. The theme is wonderful and the description card nicely lays out what is happening in this involved little gem. Compositionally it is triangular and there are nice elements that help guide your eye from left to right. A beautiful classical arch is in the middle ground, steering you to focus on The Three Fates. In the foreground is the winged figure of Time, an extraordinary figure completely unaware of the otiose task he has taken up. According to the description card Time is tossing papers inscribed with names into the river. Geese save them as quickly as he tosses them, ferrying the allegorical pieces of papyrus up a meandering river to the background where nymphs attach the saved papers to columns in the Temple of Immortality. It is an intricate piece, with a fairy tale quality to it, very detailed though not wrought. It is lovely to look at again and again.
In the show were also wonderful battle scenes and triumphal march scenes, all detailed and complex in composition. Lastly, a couple flawless studies  kept my eyes busy for good long while.
Baccio Bandinelli Studies of Heads and Poppi Francisvo Vandini ’s Four Heads
Finally, for those of you who want to read a really excellent stand out biography of Morgan, Jean Strouse’s Morgan: An American Financier is the one. http://www.nytimes.com/books/99/03/28/reviews/990328.28lingemt.html
Last year a biography of Bella de Costa Green (it’s on my list to read!) by Heidi Ardizzone was published: An Illuminated Life: Belle da Costa Green’s Journey from Prejudice to Privilege
http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/product-description/0393051048/ref=dp_proddesc_0?ie=UTF8&n=283155&s=books

I admit it, I have a very short attention span when it comes to fiction. That’s why short story collections ( like Miranda July’s No One Belongs Here More than You: Stories ) and graphic novels (like Alison Bechdel’s Fun Home: a Family Tragicomic) are good for me. I think the last novel that I got through in one continuous reading was Lisa See’s Snow Flower and the Secret Fan. Now I’m reading Junot Diaz’ The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao and I think I’m actually gonna get through this one. Maybe it’s because it’s told from different points of view…maybe it’s because of Diaz’ awesome style of writing that combines street and literary language…maybe it’s because the title character’s last name rhymes with my own, and Oscar would have been my middle name if I were a boy.

In bits and pieces of metal and muck a different type of life rained down upon the street below and I could not stop thinking about what goes on high above our heads. This as a result of the recent spate of tragedies of men and debris falling to the street from above, far above. Before Christmas two window washers crashed to the street below along with their scaffolding from 47 floors above. Miraculously one man lived. Just last week a construction worker fell from roughly the same height along with part of the floor and thousands of pounds of wet cement.
At any given time, many, many floors above our heads there is a whole world taking place. We see it only in spats, most of us carry on oblivious to what is happening above us. Things are being hauled up and down, unbelievably heavy things, things that would cause great damage if they were to fall, things that would splatter the flesh in an instant. For the most part nothing comes down upon us unexpectedly. From time to time things drop from the sky as though giant invisible hands with nimble fingers have plucked people and metal and tossed them down. Sometimes massive objects do topple over upon us. Will the scrim of scaffolding really protect us? Despite our ability to reign in nature, from time to time, she says “tsk, tsk, tsk little darlins that is not physics, you can’t fool mother nature…KABOOM!” And so it was with the most recent tragedies. Horrifying, terrifying and exhilarating incidents that make the heart race when you stop to think about it. Surprisingly, for the most part, the innocent below are untouched. Even more disturbing is that these incidents occur on the bustling streets of New York City.
Midtown construction work is constantly going on, often high above our heads. In the warms months of spring and summer I was a regular audience at many of the sites. It was fascinating and exciting I returned again and again for the thrill. I was riding a virtual roller coaster and the price of admission was free. How could I resist?
Once I was on a side street between 5th Ave and Madison when I noticed almost in the clouds a crane slowly turning with a load attached to a long cable. Enormous weights were in motion to counter balance. It was a ballet of metal and muscle and I had to press my back against the wall of a building as I looked up. Vertigo took my breath away. I could not believe what I was witnessing juxtaposed against the lunch time crowds rushing to and fro. I was mesmerized, enthralled. I vowed to come back everyday and I did. After a while one of workers noticed me and he was willing to answer my myriad of questions. I tried to imagine what it was like to be way up there, the man driving the crane whose only contact with the world is via walkie-talkie. I visited this site often. I was even lucky enough to watch them bring the crane down. I have watched huge cooling systems being hoisted to the tops of tall buildings. I have watched heavy loads of I-beams go up with the wave of a hand above 42nd Street as crowds and traffic go about their business below. I even saw a load of construction material ready to go up suddenly spring loose from the thick metal cables that bound it. The look on the workmens’ faces revealed how truly lucky we all were.
I look forward to the warm months when I can watch the events of the building on the corner of 6th Ave and 42nd St unfold and discover new sites where I can watch this mechanical matinee. The canopy layer of our concrete forest is as rich with life as any tropical forest.

Let’s take a look back over the years at some of the hardware and software I worked with at Mid-Manhattan Library.
Middle to late 1980s
IBM PC, XT and AT models with 128 -256 KB memory; 1 or 2 floppy 360K disk drives;
12″ monochrome green monitor; keyboard; 10-20 MB hard drive (optional);
DOS 3.0-4.0; $2,500 or more.
Those computers were heavy and the monitors generated enough heat to warm an office. The keyboards were solid with function keys grouped on the left side. They were easier to reach and to use than at the top of the keyboard.
User manuals came in small ring binders, packed with useful information on formatting floppy disks, etc.
HP LaserJet 2 ($2,700.); Epson dot-matrix($300.); HP ThinkJet ($225.) printers.
The LaserJet really sounded like a jet with a fantastic output of 1 page a minute.
The Epson dot-matrix printers sounded like dentist’s drills and woke up staff in the morning. Quieter HP Thinkjet (ink-jet) printers replaced these alarm clocks.
Infotrac used 12” laserdiscs to distribute data to computers through dedicated wiring.
Later on, they used regular CD-ROM drives which broke down frequently. I remember using unwound paperclips to eject broken CD-ROM caddies.
DOS 3.0; DBASE III for databases; Professional Write for word processing;
Professional File file creator; Lotus 1-2-3 spreadsheets (a tough program to learn).
I miss DOS though - it was simple and straightforward. I could write and edit small programs that controlled the computer. If there were hard drive problems, the FORMAT command wiped them away. Of course that erased all the driver commands to control the printer so I couldn’t print my reports. I learned to be more selective after that.
1989: my first computer virus message: “Your Computer is Stoned. Legalize Marijuana!”
There was also an unnamed virus that decreased memory each time the computer rebooted. Couldn’t figure out how it did that.
Computer manufacturers had live people (no voicemail!) at their tech support centers. They solved problems within a half-hour and even called you back later to see if the solution held up.
Library staff performed DIALOG searches for the public, free of charge. After a short reference interview, one scanned the DIALOG reference book for the appropriate database that could answer the question. No Googling here – you had to know your AND, OR, and NOT.
Early to mid 1990s
ZEOS 386, Gateway 2000 486;512 MB to 1 GB RAM; 40 to 80 MB hard drives;
DOS 5 and above; 3 ½” diskette drives; color monitors with grainy graphics; WordPerfect 5.0 and 6.0 (DOS version) HP LaserJets 3,4, 5 and 6. Prices drop for computer equipment prices drop and they become commodities rather than oddities.
Before the Internet hit, we bought several computers and Pioneer CD-ROM changers to provide the public with access to six CD-ROM databases from one computer. They worked well and the Library got their money’s worth out of them.
Windows 95 debuts at MML and I’m not thrilled with it. I can still use DOS.
WordPerfect chugs along in a few staff computers but MS-Word becomes the Library’s word processing standard. Does anyone remember (and miss) using WordPerfect’s Reveal Codes feature for text formatting?
The Library installs networked Internet computers for the public on all floors with Netscape Navigator as a web browser. Each computer has its own printer and paper mill.
Staff computer networks take shape slowly. Lotus cc:Mail replaces telephone conversations to some extent. We still use typewriters for typing labels.
The MML On-Line Office gets more calls about computer breakdowns. Viruses, hackers and spam – oh my!
Late 1990s to mid 2000s
Micron and Dell computers. Average cost is $1,000 apiece. Zip disks are supposed to be the next big thing in storing data but they cost too much to be useful systemwide.
No more manuals or free tech support. Help is available online – if the computer works.
Free Click–on computer classes for the public begin. Students use laptops to access the Internet through wireless local area connections. One of “Murphy’s Laws on Technology” seems apt: Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic.
The Internet has really exploded and more viruses show up. Aren’t software upgrades supposed to be less restrictive?
Somehow, working with computers isn’t as fun as it used to be.

“No place affords a more striking conviction of the vanity of human hopes than a public library; for who can see the wall crowded on every side by mighty volumes, the works of laborious meditations and accurate inquiry, now scarcely known but by the catalogue…”
Samuel Johnson: Rambler #106 (March 23, 1751)http://www.samueljohnson.com/writing.html
 I’m a little less than halfway through George Gissing’s New Grub Street (1891)[http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/New_Grub_Street], a delightfully gloomy late Victorian novel about (among other things) the writer’s life and the uneasy relationship between art and commerce. It’s a remarkably well written, insightful and contemporary-feeling book, one that came highly recommended from friend of a friend. Interestingly enough, this book has been the subject of an issue of Harvey Pekar’s American Splendor [”Grubstreet U.S.A.” American Splendor No. 11 - http://www.metroactive.com/papers/metro/08.21.03/splendor-0334.html].
I haven’t gotten to the end of it yet, so I can’t talk about the book with any real authority (not that I’ll be able to do so after reading it either). Nonetheless, I’d like to share with everyone a passage that I came across (in chapter VIII) that has to do with the main reading room of the British Museum. It provides a nice description of what I’ve oftened imagined to be the inner life of some of the people here at Mid-Manhattan (the ones with their heads down on the tables), and also offers a wonderfully inventive and funny riff on the maddening, almost mechanical way that the books here in The Library beget other books, which beget other books, which … 
I didn’t expect to find in books of this era a passage so light and grim at the same time - it’s sort of like the Sorcerer’s Appretice segment in Disney’s Fantasia, meets Thomas Malthus, meets Rube Goldberg, meets the Espresso Book Machine, meets …
You get the point. Here’s the passage:
“… The days darkened. Through November rains and fogs Marian [Yule, the daughter of (and researcher for) a bitter and somewhat unsuccessful writer/editor] went her usual way to the Museum, and toiled there among the other toilers. Perhaps once a week she allowed herself to stray about the alleys of the Reading-room, scanning furtively those who sat at the desks [for the young, up-and-coming writer Jasper Milvain], but the face she might perchance have discovered was not there.
One day at the end of the month she sat with books open before her, but by no effort could fix her attention upon them. It was gloomy, and one could scarcely see to read; a taste of fog grew perceptible in the warm, headachy air. Such profound discouragement possessed her that she could not even maintain the pretence of study; heedless whether anyone observed her, she let her hands fall and her head droop. She kept asking herself what was the use and purpose of such a life as she was condemned to lead. When already there was more good literature in the world than any mortal could cope with in his lifetime, here was she exhausting herself in the manufacture of printed stuff which no one even pretended to be more than a commodity for the day’s market. What unspeakable folly! To write — was not that the joy and the privilege of one who had an urgent message for the world?
Her father, she knew well, had no such message; he had abandoned all thought of original production, and only wrote about writing.
She herself would throw away her pen with joy but for the need of earning money. And all these people about her, what aim had they save to make new books out of those already existing, that yet newer books might in turn be made out of theirs? This huge library, growing into unwieldiness, threatening to become a trackless desert of print — how intolerably it weighed upon the spirit!
Oh, to go forth and labour with one’s hands, to do any poorest, commonest work of which the world had truly need! It was ignoble to sit here and support the paltry pretence of intellectual dignity. A few days ago her startled eye had caught an advertisement in the newspaper, headed ‘Literary Machine’; had it then been invented at last, some automaton to supply the place of such poor creatures as herself to turn out books and articles? Alas! the machine was only one for holding volumes conveniently, that the work of literary manufacture might be physically lightened. But surely before long some Edison would make the true automaton; the problem must be comparatively such a simple one. Only to throw in a given number of old books, and have them reduced, blended, modernised into a single one for to-day’s consumption. …”

A friend of mine who is a waitress shared an observation with me.  We’ve all heard the stereotype of the ugly American traveling abroad: loud, rude and uncultured.  Lately, however, these words more fittingly describe the European tourists who have recently been visiting her well-known West Village restaurant.  I’ve also noticed many European tourists in Midtown, and they can most often be found on the sidewalk in front of the Main Library carrying multiple shopping bags and taking pictures of each other.
European tourists are supposed to be cultured, elegant and polite.  What happened?  My friend attributes this change to the fall of the formerly mighty dollar.  In the past, the average American who was good with her money could afford to go abroad and gaze at the Eiffel Tower, raise a pint of Guinness or ski the Swiss Alps.  Now we can’t afford to go away, but Europeans have been crossing the Atlantic in droves. 
With so many foreign travelers in New York, some of them are bound to be rude.  And maybe being a good tourist takes some practice, which many of the recent tourists seem to lack.  My friend and I are happy that the more people around the world are able to come to New York and see it first-hand.  But we would also like it if they realized that it’s impolite not to tip in a restaurant, and that we need our precious little sidewalk space for getting around.

When I was a kid, I knew that grown-ups used big words with meanings I didn’t understand. There was always the assumption that as I got older, I’d learn these as a matter of course. In the meantime, however, I could always make up definitions based on other words I knew that sounded like the new one. Some of them still stick with me because, in my opinion, they’re better than the real things. For example …
I heard that someone had “matriculated”. This is a rather pompous way of saying that he or she had signed up for college, but I didn’t know that. So, what did it sound like. The main elements seemed to be “may”,”trickle” and “late”. “MAy TRICkle Until it’s too LATE” suggested itself very quickly thereafter. What could trickle until it’s too late? Aha! Matriculate means to bleed internally for a long time without knowing it until you suddenly keel over dead on the spot. I was already writing my epic, never-to-be-published story of an imaginary empire, so this new word fit effortlessly into the growing, convoluted plot.
“Old King Uzz was taking a bath when he banged himself rather sharply on one of the faucets. He looked down and saw only a small bruise on his side, but he didn’t know he had busted his thyrax and it was bleeding into his divercreas. He went about his daily business hunting dinosaurs and reviewing his army in the nude. All the while his blood was running inside, drip, drip, drip. In the evening he went to a huge state dinner in his palace in the city of ‘Poo. After eating he burped up a big bubble of blood and fell dead with his face in a cake. The palace doctor said he must have matriculated for hours.”
I wrote this when I was twelve years old and felt mighty proud of it then. I still do, and I haven’t lost my affinity for puns and other wordplay. Every odd word I hear automatically goes through the rolling and smelting mill of my mind where it’s compared to other words and filed away for future use. People’s names evoke a particularly strong response and, by their mere sound, can evoke responses ranging from euphoria to something akin to having smelled something nasty. This may verge on something called “synesthesia”, but that’s another story.
The whole point of this posting is to encourage people to learn lots of new words. Find out what they really mean, but make something up on the way to the dictionary. It’s lots of fun, and often what you invent is way better than the real thing.

New Yorkers know that waiting in line is a fact of life. But there are ways that you can make your visits to the library faster and smoother.
Entering the building. First of all, open your bag as soon as you walk through one of the three doors on 5th Avenue.  All bags must be checked by the security guard. Bags, suitcases and cellos larger than a airplane carry-on are not allowed into the library. Click here to see our bag check policy.
Asking questions. The Courtesy Desk at the entrance can give you basic information and directions for the building. If you have questions about books or materials, however, you must go to one of the Information/Reference Desks. You can save time by going directly to the Information desk for your specific subject. Questions about your account, due dates and renewals should be directed to the Circulation Desk on the 1st floor. Questions about your library card, PIN number and address changes can be asked at the Registration Desk on the 1st floor. Student employees can only direct you to Dewey decimal areas.  Go to the Information Desk to inquire about the availability of books.
Finding your book on the shelf. Each floor is laid out into various collections. You can check out books and other materials at the Circulation Desk on the 1st floor or on the 3rd floor in the Picture Collection.  There are also 3 self check-out machines for books (no videos or CDs) on the 1st floor, and one in the Reserves Room next to the 1st floor Info Desk.
Leaving. Have your items that you have checked out ready to inspect as you leave the building.  Each library item must be accompanied by a receipt.  The circulation desk can offer a new one if you’ve lost yours.  Also open your bag so that it can be inspected upon leaving.  We don’t like looking in your bags, but hey, it’s New York.

My cousin sent me an e-mail asking for my help with a computer problem.  Since I was at work and couldn’t make a house call to New Jersey, here’s how it went after several messages and some editing:
ME: Well, long distance diagnosis is tricky, what’s wrong? 
HIM:  When I boot up my laptop, chkdsk [Checkdisk] gets stuck in a loop and I can’t get out of it unless I turn the laptop off. I can’t even run in safe mode as it freezes. Also, how do I turn off chkdsk from start-up?
 
ME: Chkdsk scans the files on the hard drive for errors and when it finds them, it tries to fix them. I need more info. What’s your laptop brand and how long have you had it?
HIM: Let’s see, Dell Inspiron 6000, had it for 1-1/2 yrs.
M: What Windows version is running and what’s the service pack number?
H:  Windows XP with Service Pack 2
M: Does chkdsk usually start on boot up and was everything running OK before the problem?
H: Yes.
M: When did chkdsk start looping?
H: Just recently after I got a blue screen with chkdsk message telling me to dump files.
M: Did you add, remove or change any software or hardware?
H: Don’t believe so. My son has been using it and he might have downloaded music or something. I don’t like it when he uses aim [AOL Instant Messenger]. Seems like the problem actually started when he was using the machine. There’s also a message about corrupt code 176 in file 10732 or 0732 file. It’s hard to read while it’s endlessly scrolling.
M: AHA! Viruses may hide in AIM, spam email and downloaded programs and files. These are common ways of transmission. Make sure your security software (anti-virus, anti-spam ,anti-spyware, firewall) has the latest updates. Try running the security software from the CD to see if it catches anything.
On the hardware end, your hard drive may be failing if you hear clicking, the motor speeds up, then slows down, etc. This is serious and needs immediate attention.
 
H: If all else fails, I guess I’ll wipe drive and reinstall Windows XP.
M: Make sure you have backups of your files [and programs] before you do that.
You might want to check out this company  www.computeroverhauls.com  A few people told me they did a good job in getting rid of the junk programs and speeding up their PCs. You can bring it in to them or go for the remote tune-up. Let me know how it turns out. Good luck. 
I forgot to ask if he wrote down the Blue Screen message(s)? Sometimes there is a clue there. I searched the Internet for that corrupt code file but didn’t find anything.
Well, I gave it my best shot. I haven’t gotten an answer so I assume things are back to normal.
Wait a minute. If his laptop wasn’t working, how did he send me those e-mails? 

Easy Rawlins is very near and dear to my heart. If he was real I would be in love. Instead I must admire him from afar, through the written word. The man I have the biggest crush on exists only on the page and in my mind’s eye. He is the protagonist of the acclaimed Easy Rawlins series created by noted author Walter Mosley.
I discovered Mosley by accident. I was visiting friends a few years back and I was hungry for something to read, something fun. We got on the topic of books and I mentioned my desire. Mosley was suggested with the added endorsement of Bill Clinton considering Mosley a favorite. That night I looked Mosley up in Novelist (how I miss that database) and discovered the Easy Rawlins series. The next day I got the first book, Devil in a Blue Dress. I read practically the whole book in one sitting. I loved it. I then went on to the third and fourth and within a matter of time I had read the entire series practically in one long sitting and I was hooked. There were so many things that I liked about Easy Rawlins: he was smart but not arrogant, he made mistakes, he was human, he had tremendous humility that he wore like a well fitting suit, and lastly he aged in each installment.
Mosley uses the backdrop of an historical milieu, sometimes using significant events like the Watts Riot to set a story. Mosley’s writing is top notch, graceful and powerful. His sentences often warrant a second look. His secondary characters are well thought out and purposeful.
There is tragedy and humor to the East Rawlins series. They often make me cry.
When I started doing programming, in the back of mind I thought how wonderful it would be to have Walter Mosley come speak at the library. I fantasized about what the night would be like. I seriously wanted to meet Walter Mosley and tell him how much of a fan I was of Easy Rawlins. So in this frame of mind I fired off a letter to Walter Mosley, then two and three, all of them passionately inviting him to come speak at the library. His publicist tried to let me down gently, but I would not give up. After many months and many more letters I did finally give up, putting my school girl crush on Easy Rawlins to rest. I thanked his publicists (there were two or three) for their help and I put the idea of Walter Mosley coming to speak at the library away.
Then last year I was strolling the aisles of the Book Expo at the Javits Center and as luck would have it, I came across the Little Brown & Co. booth and right in front was promotion for the 10th installment of the Easy Rawlins series Blonde Faith. I can’t tell you how excited I was. I gently inquired about having Walter Mosley come to the library. The reception of the request was warm but they would have to check with the author first. I requested business cards and went on my way.
Once back at the library the work began, I composed an email to Walter Mosley’s publicist and waited a week. No response. I re-sent the email with a new email on top. This time a response. It went this way back and forth for a about a month, maybe two. I finally was able to secure a date and with that my heart raced with joy. Getting a solid date of NOV 20 2007 erased the feeling of inadequacy that accompanied my previous attempt to get Walter Mosley to come to the library. Now I was elated and proud. But all the work that went into getting Walter Mosley to come to the library and the great feeling of joy I felt was for naught. In September I was notified by his publicists that Mr. Mosley would not be coming to the library after all. I was frustrated and extremely disappointed and there was nothing I could do about it.
Yesterday was Christmas Eve. I finished Blonde Faith, the 10th installment of the Easy Rawlins series. I happened to be on the train and there it was: the last page, then the last paragraph and finally the last sentence. I shut the book, looked up and thought to myself what a great book it was and how much I love Easy Rawlins.

After a hard day dealing with balky printers, stubborn viruses etc., Murphy’s Laws on Technology are a source of comfort. Here a few gems, along with my observations:
“New systems generate new problems.”
Installing any new hardware or software really scares me.
“Any part when dropped will roll into the least accessible corner.”
Some favorite hiding places are under a desk or between a pair of file cabinets.
Dark carpeting turns a simple retrieval into an expedition.
I’ll be wearing a white shirt that day. The shirt will be covered with laser toner cartridge dust and lines from the pen I tucked into the pocket. No, I don’t use a pocket protector.
“The attention span of a computer is only as long as its electrical cord.”
Oops, I hope that staff member saved their data to a flash drive.
“If it’s not in the computer, it does not exist.”
Sometimes the answer is in a book.
“When all else fails, read the instructions.”
I forget to do this. There, I admitted it.
“A meeting is an event in which the minutes are kept and the hours are lost.”
Enough said.
“All’s well that ends.”
END

Q. What do Mid-Manhattan Library and Madison Square Garden have in common?
A. It’s not always obvious where you need to go.
Finding a book can be like finding your seat at Madison Square Garden. First you need to be sure that you’re supposed to be at Madison Square Garden. Maybe your show is at the Theater at Madison Square Garden, or maybe you’re supposed to go to the Beacon Theatre? Then you need to know what section you’re in. You go to that section and then you finally find your row and your seat. Finding your seat at the Knicks game or Ozzy concert might be confusing the first few times, but after you do it a few times, you’ll have a basic idea of where to go. The library is the same way.

So how do you find a book?
1. Go to nypl.org. You can search the library’s catalogs from the homepage. Note that we have two catalogs: LEO for books you can borrow and CATYNP for books for in-library use only.
2. In the space under Circulating (LEO), type in your keywords. Keywords are words in the title, author and subject fields of our catalog entries. With a keyword search, the order of the words does not matter. Also remember that your results will necessarily include every word you type into that space (so if you are not getting any results, use fewer search terms and check your spelling). Click on Go.
3. You will get a list of results. Note that your results will include all matching books, videos or music in all branches. To narrow down to a specific format or location, you will need to do an Expanded Search.
THIS IS VERY IMPORTANT: Ignore the numbers next to “Reservable Copies” and “Number of Holds.” This data is not very meaningful.
4. Click on the title of the book you are interested in finding, then scroll to the bottom of that page to see what location has the book, whether you can bring it home (if it says Reference under “Item,” you can’t) and whether it’s supposed to be on the shelves (see this blog entry to learn more about item status). If you book is at a large branch such as Mid-Manhattan, you will also need to note what floor and what collection has your book. The Dewey number alone will not tell you where to go. Read a previous entry to understand Dewey Decimal numbers.

The following text and list was originally published earlier this year in a brochure produced by Reference & Advisory Services department head Wol Sue Lee for the New York Library Association.
The history of the Korean movie industry from the silent screen to the present box-office blockbusters has been shaped by changing historical and cultural forces. Many films were destroyed because of political situations, WWII, and the Korean War. During the ‘50s and ‘60s movie theaters began to exist. As a result, young Korean actors and actresses became very popular, appearing in films ranging from crime, suspense and Korean War movies to melodramas. Then in the ‘70s there was a worldwide decline in the movie industry due to the influx of television.
The ’80s brought a democratic presidential election to Korea and the inclusion of three Korean films at Toronto’s Festival of Festivals. Even though the first Korean film to receive recognition in a foreign film festival is a 1978 film, Shijibganeun nal (The Wedding Day), Korean films had been virtually unknown in the West until 1986, when Gilsoddeum, directed by Kwon-taek Im, was entered in competition at the Berlin International Film Festival. At the 1988 Montréal World Film Festival, an actress in Adada won the award for Best Actress. In the ‘70s and ‘80s more Hollywood movies were allowed to come into Korea. In order to prevent the total collapse of the Korean movie industry, a screen quota system was set up which forced Korean theaters to play only Korean films 146 days out of the year. In 1996, a new generation of directors led a renaissance in the Korean film industry. In addition, the ‘80s and ‘90s witnessed the transformation of historical and small theaters into modern multiplex theaters. Major film festivals, such as the Busan International Film Festival (BIIF), the Jeonju International Film Festival and PiFan, the Puchon International Fantastic Film Festival, were hosted in South Korea. A big moment occurred in 1990, when the Pesaro International Film Festival of New Cinema in Italy mounted a retrospective of Korean cinema. This, in turn was followed by more comprehensive representation of Korean films at the Centre Georges Pompidou in Paris in 1993-1994.
After the ‘90s Korean films improved drastically in terms of quality, and there were many box-office hits. 2001 marked a new height in terms of smash hits. Some of the recent successful blockbusters that are not listed in this bibliography, include: Chingu (Friend), Chunhyang, Yeopgijeogin geunyeo (My Sassy Girl), Oasis, and Bin-jip (3-Iron). The biggest Korean film of 2006 was a monster film, Gwoemul (The Host), which broke every record in the book.
The presence of so many blockbuster films has not meant a lessening of more artistic works. Some critics thought that Korean cinema had “gone commercial,” however, they were pleasantly surprised by the high quality films produced, such as Friend; Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter and…Spring; and Jibeuro; to name a few. Korean cinema’s rapidly expanding talent base gives hope that the industry will continue to prosper in the future.
10 Award Winning Korean Films (in no particular order)

Bom yeoreum gaeul gyeoul geurigo… bom (Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter…and Spring). 2003, color,103 min. Directed and starred by Ki-duk Kim.
This small floating Buddhist monastery is set on a beautiful, serene landscape. The film has five segments, with each season representing a stage in a man’s life – Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter…and Spring. From an old monk, a child learns the nature of sorrow. In the heat and lushness of summer the monk, now a young man, experiences desire. With winter he atones for his past actions, and with spring, a new cycle begins. The seasons symbolize the human spirit, moving from innocence, through love and evil, to enlightenment and finally rebirth. (Winner of 10 awards, including: Audience Award, San Sebastian International Film Festival 2003, Spain; 2003 Award, Locarno International Film Festival, Switzerland;Grand Bell Award 2004, South Korea; Silver Condor Award 2005, Argentinian Film Critics Association; 2005 Chlotrudis Award, Massachussetts Society for Independent Film.)
Gwoemul (The Host). 2006, color, 120 min. Directed by Joon-ho Pong.
Kang Du, who runs a small snack stand near the Han River, has a dysfunctional family. His brother is a foul-talking, Molotov-cocktail-throwing, unemployed college graduate, and his sister is a professional archer with self-esteem issues. His family’s only hope is his daughter Hyun Seo. Life seems to be relatively normal until a giant monster living in the polluted river snatches his daughter. The family is determined to do anything to rescue her. (Winner of 14 awards, including: Asia-Pacific Film Festival Award 2006, Taiwan; Blue Dragon Award 2006, South Korea; Orient Ex-press Award 2006, Catalonian International Film Festival; Interna-tional Fantasy Film Award 2007, Fantasporto, Portugal.)
Jibeuro (The Way Home). 2002, color, 87 min. Directed by Jeong-hyang Yi.
A spoiled city boy is forced to live with his grandmother, who is deaf, illiterate, and old-fashioned and lives alone in a remote farming village. Despite his unhappiness in an unfamiliar environment, he slowly accepts her simple but hard way of existence, making friends with other country boys, and in the end develops affection towards his devoted grandmother. (Winner of 7 awards, including: Grand Bell Award 2002, South Korea; Baek Sang Film 2003, South Korea; Bronze Castle, Castellinaria International Festival of Young Cinema, Switzerland, 2003.)
Milyang (Secret Sunshine). 2007, color, 142 min. Directed by Chang-dong Lee.
The title,”Milyang,” where the action is set, means “a place with good sunshine,” but it can also mean secret sunshine. After her husband is killed by a bus, Shin-ae relocates with her son to Milyang, the town where her deceased husband was born. She tries to cope with her new environment and teaches piano lessons. She finds the place comfortable, people welcome them, her son likes his new school, and she meets a man who is dedicated to her. Then tragedy strikes her once more. Her only son is kidnapped and killed. Initially traumatized with pain and suffering, she goes to prison to forgive the man who killed her son, but is confused and angry to see him at peace with his newfound religion. In the end, she deals with the nature of suffering and finds hope again. (Best Actress Award 2007, Cannes Film Festival.)
Oldboy. 2003; 2005, color, 120 min. Directed by Chan-wook Park.
Dae-su Oh is kidnapped and imprisoned for fifteen years in a private cell. He tries endlessly to escape, but in vain. Dae-su has no idea why he is in this desperate situation and who is keeping him there. When he is released one day, his only desires are to find out why he was imprisoned, and kill the one responsible in the slowest, most painful way possible. (Winner of 17 awards, including: 2004 British Independent Film Award; 2004 Audience Award, Bergen International Film Festival, Norway; Grand Prix of the Jury 2004, Cannes Film Festival; 2004 Asia-Pacific Film Festival Award, Japan; Golden Kinnaree Award 2005, Bangkok International Film Festival; Critics Choice Award 2006, Austin Film Critics Association, Texas.)
Shiri (Swiri). 1999, color, 125 min. Directed by Je-gyu Kang.
Who is killing a slew of South Korean intelligent agents and who are the phantom terrorists trying to steal the powerful new explosive CTX? South Korean agents Ryu and Lee try to get to the bottom of this North Korean infiltration, but they suspect each other of being a double agent because of a security leak. They must find the source of the leak and the target of the North Koreans before it is too late. (Asia-Pacific Film Festival Award 1999, Thailand; Grand Bell Award 1999, South Korea.)
Silmido. 2003, color, 136 min. Directed by Woo-suk Kang.
Based on a true story. In 1968 a group of thirty-one North Korean commandos tried to infiltrate South Korea to assassinate President Park Chung-hee, but failed. This incursion prompted the South Korean Central Intelligence Agency (KCIA) to pay back the favor by recruiting thirty-one death row convicts, whose main purpose was the assassination of North Korean president Kim Il-Sung. In 1969 the political climate between the two Koreas changed dramatically, which prompted KCIA to abort this top secret mission and make the recruits virtual prisoners in Silmido, a remote island. The film concludes in 1971, with the recruits revolting, killing the training officers, and trying to escape…Only four survived the ordeals but were later executed. (Winner of 7 awards, including: Blue Dragon Award 2004, South Korea; Grand Bell Award 2004, South Korea.)
Sopyonje (Seopyeonje). 1993; 2006, color, 113 min. Directed by Kwon-taek Im.
Youbong is a master of pansori, a type of Korean folk music. He travels the countryside with two adopted children, searching for his soul mate with whom he grew up. They were raised by a pansori master, but when he ran away to explore the exciting city life, the girl stayed behind and lost her sight and wandered around the land singing pansori. (Blue Dragon Award 1993, South Korea; Grand Bell Award 1993, South Korea; Golden Goblet 1993, Shanghai International Film Festival.)
Taegukgi hwinalrimeyo (Tae Guk Gi : The Brotherhood of War). 2004, color, 120 min. Directed by Je-gyu Kang.
Two brothers, Jin-tae Lee, a shoeshine boy hoping to become a shoemaker, and Jin-seok Lee, a bookish high school student, are caught in the Korean War (1950-53). Living with their ailing mother and Jin-tae’s fiancée, they are poor and struggling but remarkably happy. Then both brothers are drafted into the army; the older brother volunteers for a dangerous mission in order to save his younger brother. (Winner of 9 awards, including: Blue Dragon Award 2004, South Korea; Grand Bell Award 2004, South Korea; 2004 Political Film Society Award, U.S.A.; Asia-Pacific Film Festival Award 2005, Malaysia.)
Wang-ui namja (The King and the Clown). 2005; 2006, color, 119 min. Directed by Jun-ik Lee.
Two street clowns perform a political satire mocking King Yon San, an evil, cruel dictator who is hated by his people. They are hauled into the palace and given a tall order - - make the king smile or else. They are invited to stay on and perform for the king. It turns out that the king is smitten with the younger clown, and the plot thickens. (Baek Sang Film Award 2006, South Korea; this film was selected as the official Korean entry for the Best Foreign Language Film Award at the 79th Academy Awards, U.S.A.)