How Do You Arrange Books In A Library Novels & Stories

Her lips pressed together in a tight line, she looked at me for another hard minute before nodding 'Alpha' at me and walking out of the library. While I sat there, hoping she either bought my lie or at least is just willing to help me, no questions asked. I was just packing everything back, trying hard to place all the books where I had found them, which proved to be a bit difficult since I had taken so many and the books were not arranged in an alphabetical manner. It had been in a chronological manner, which I found out after a painful twenty minutes of trying to match letters and serial numbers.

He was staring down at a heavy notebook and he turned it towards me when I came forth. “This is the record of how all the books here are arranged. It’s stored Alphabetically by way of the author in shelves labeled according to Genre.” I didn’t look at the book. I stared instead at him. Initial giddiness aside, I was not a guest here. I was a slave. A low-ranking one at that. Why was I here, so far away from the Harem being shown this incredible library? “Write down any book you wish to borrow down in here. Just make sure you return them to where they need to be once you’re done.”

Every shift at the library was a workout for her since it meant she had to reshelve heavy books. Books were supposed to be arranged in an ascending order based on the numbers taped on their spines for easy location. And despite the weight of the stack that she had to arrange, she held it with an arm while her other hand was busy placing the books back onto the shelves. The last book in the heap had to be placed on the top shelf. So, of course, being the petite girl that she was, she had to use one of the footstools that were normally scattered within the area. She tucked the book under her armpit and craned her neck from side to side in an attempt to find one.

I was certain I would find mine before him, though, because it looked like I was on the right track to finding it. There was a problem with this particular library, though. This library didn't have its books arranged in the proper order. The books were arranged haphazardly, with no care for order or easy location. Most libraries either had their books arranged in alphabetical order or according to author's names or according to the genres but this particular one didn't have any of that. Everything was joined together with everything and it made finding a book so difficult. I wonder why the Alpha had it like that, though.

It shifts into a story about Albert at nine years old, reorganizing Lorenzo's entire library. "He sorted everything by publication date," Marco says. Albert doesn't even defend himself. Yet. "The shelves were alphabetical," Marco continues. "Normal people were perfectly happy with them. Father came home, took one look..." He pauses dramatically. "...and almost had a heart attack." "It was inefficient," Albert says. "It was a library." "They aren't mutually exclusive." Marco points his fork at him. "Albert." "What?" "It was books." "It was a system." I lose it. An actual laugh escapes before I can stop it.

Silence. “I don’t.” said Kai. Jonas sighed. “The problem is that honest people can still be dangerous.” No one could reproach. Because that was true too. Aren looked through the library. On the shelves. On the clocks. Open doors. And suddenly he noticed something. Something that nobody had noticed before. The books. All the books were in perfect order. Not alphabetical. Not by author. Not by topic. After years. Every shelf was a year. 1901. 1902.

She reorganized her bookshelf twice. Not by color this time — she'd already done color, that was a September system, and she was in November now, and November required something different. She tried alphabetical by author, which was sensible and correct, and lasted approximately twenty minutes before she started moving things around by feeling, which was less sensible and more honest, and ended with Didion next to Baldwin next to a dog-eared Marilynne Robinson she'd read four times and a slim collection of poetry she'd bought at Margins and hadn't opened yet.

“Where it was always supposed to be.” The next morning I take the book to the library and Bowen helps me find the right place for it on the shelf, which requires moving two other volumes and having a brief discussion about chronological versus thematic organisation that is the most Bowen conversation I have ever had and which I win, though he does not admit this. He runs his hand along the spine when I slide it into place. “There,” he says. “There,” I agree. We stand in the library for a moment. “Bowen,” I say. “The fullbond. What does it mean. Going forward.”

She had never even seen the depths of the gigantic house, which got her determined to know the nooks and cranny of everywhere now. Aria found the floor stairs that led to the library after following behind a maid that morning, and made her way into the large space without anyone's knowledge. Her eyes glinted in admiration of how the library was built, as it trailed across every corner of how magnificent the room was. The manner at which the books were arranged on the shelves, looked like a circular dark hole that insignificantly reduced its diameter by space from the ceiling to the floor. Right in front of the shelves was a revolving ladder touching from the ceiling to inches above the floor

It had two big shelves on each side, while there was a space in between. Forgetting that I had teared up a while back, I stepped into the enclosure. Book and books, everywhere, the strong stench of old books. In the middle of the library was a table, surrounded by a few chairs. I grazed my fingers on the right shelf as I walked further in, looking up at the books arranged ever so neatly. I could literally spend a whole day here without care. I picked out a few books, checked the titles, and then dropped them back, they all smelled like old books.