The circulation area on the first floor serves as the primary point of entry and exit for the east side of North York Central Library. When I first came in, the sheer intensity of activity was overwhelming. Long lines of borrowers resembled busy supermarket queues, and library staff were doing their best to hustle through the check-out process. At least there were no price checks!

The restless pace of book borrowing was rendered more frenetic by the overstimulating decor. Bright colours and geometric shapes competed with the press of people and objects, leaving the eye with few places to rest. However, one structure provided a clear visual boundary in a disorienting space. It was a waist-high wall in red tiles. Shaped like a letter “s” that just kept on curving, the wall demarcated where the browsery ended and the Children’s Section began. Continuing the curve where the wall stopped was a red bookcase that also managed to undulate.

Behind the red wall was a yellow castle tower with green eaves and a semi-open roof made of green boards arranged in a radial pattern. A gold ball capped the centre of the castle roof, which was approximately eight feet high.

On the floor near the entrance to the story-castle was a stone sculpture titled “Mother Bear and Cub” by E. B. Ox. This small but solid art object had inspired many young expressive artists, judging by the wild streaks of green, red, burgundy, pink, and turquoise crayon that decorated the stone bears. In my view, the colourful dialogue between artist and viewers proved the sculpture’s appeal and added to its stature.

When I went to look inside the castle, I was delighted to discover four aquariums on shelves. These fish tanks had been placed at mid-level on the castle wall, and underneath the shelves were two reading cupboards without doors. With cushions at floor level, the cubby-holes were the perfect size for a parent and child to crawl into and share a story. At the back of the reading nooks were wooden bars that created a non-threatening dungeon effect. Who knew dungeons could be fun?

The fanciful tower wasn’t the only story venue at North York Central’s Children’s Section; it also boasted a separate story-room. On the day I visited, the room was packed with youngsters and their caregivers listening to a very animated educator. After she finished her story, she led the audience in a rousing rendition of “I’m a Little Teapot.”

On the east wall near the story-room was a striking piece of art carved in the shape of an abstract tree with branches that arched up and out. The sculpture’s branches and leaves contained a vast range of figures from fairy-tales, myths, First Nations culture, and the animal kingdom. It took me at least ten minutes to absorb all the images, for they were packed together in close proximity. Inhabiting the tree were bears, a snowman, a dinosaur, a gingerbread man, a jester, a totem pole, a Viking ship, Pan, a snake wearing a hat, Hercules, a canoe, a peacock, Pegasus, a frog king, and a woodcutter (among others).

If I wanted to learn more about frog kings or gingerbread men, I could step right over to the impressive Children’s Literature Reference Section, a category which I hadn’t seen in any other TPL branch (although Lillian H. Smith branch has a Children’s Literature Resource Collection). Equally impressive was a large collection of children’s books in French, German, Hindi, Chinese, Korean, and Russian. A smaller number of materials was available in Arabic, Persian, Serbian, Japanese, and Spanish.

The final feature of interest on the first floor was the Kid’s Help Desk, which managed to combine the whimsical with the informative. The curved desk was framed by claw-shaped side columns topped by teddy bears. A toy moose head loomed directly behind the librarians’ heads. Presumably, the moose was the final authority on all book-related matters.

Having no questions for the moose or his librarian attendants, I headed down to the Concourse Level.

When I landed on the second floor, I gravitated towards an “Altered Book Collection” near the elevators. The exhibit was created by OCAD students who had taken withdrawn library books (for sale at Book Ends on the Concourse level) and transformed them into art. The centerpiece inside the display cabinet was a bird’s nest constructed out of shredded pages. Springing up from the centre of the paper nest were some colourful paper birds.

My other favourite altered book was “Flipping War” by Christopher Wong. He had chosen a battered paperback copy of The Boat and painted the pages in swashes of blue. Then he had drawn a series of pictures to create an animated story. As I flipped through the pages, I saw a ship and a shark with a saucy smile, a lurking submarine, a small fish getting chomped by a bigger fish, and some rising jellyfish providing the final act before the words “The End” appeared.

In addition to the creatively recycled books, I was also intrigued by two Karen Stoskopf Harding sculptures with their backs to the elevator doors. One was called “Totemic Tribute to Pauline Johnson” (also known as Tekahionwake) and the other “Totemic Tribute to Emily Carr” (or Klee Wyck, “One Who Laughs). The two pieces complemented each other side by side in their pleasing roundness and faces emerging from the stone.

Turning my attention from the art, I walked around the second floor’s outer parameters. In my travels I came across some unique features: a language learning lab and a piano practice room ($1 per half hour). Hearing a music lesson in progress in the library added a dimension of sound that made the space come alive.

With piano scales galloping in the background, I investigated the central shelves and their astonishing range and volume of multilingual materials. For example, the French collection, which included a great number of Livres de Poche, was vast. Other large collections were in German, Hindi, Chinese, Korean, Russian, Serbian, Polish, and Persian. Japanese, Urdu, Vietnamese, Spanish, and Romanian were more modestly represented. However, they had been spared the fate of books in languages which had been transferred to other TPL branches (Arabic, Tamil, Bengali, Greek, Gujurati, Hebrew, and Italian).

Despite sharing a floor with so many diverse and glamorous tongues, practical ESL materials weren’t forgotten. A generous section of the west wall contained plenty of grammar, reading, and test-preparation resources. And a large cabinet was entirely filled with abridged ESL readers, graded by difficulty-level.

Enlivened yet relaxed by art, music, and languages, I let gravity draw me to level one, Circulation, Browsery, and Children’s.

When I arrived on the third floor, I was immediately drawn to the artwork which was part of a large Native People’s collection. I especially liked a stone-cut piece near the first study booth on the north wall. “Camp at Kangiak Jamarie” depicted people bundled up in parkas, a group of tents, a laundry line of drying mukluks, some kayaks, and seals in the water.

As I walked beside the study cells, booth #5 suddenly became available, and I lit inside without thinking. My instincts had responded to a rare opportunity to occupy a coveted piece of library real-estate. Settling in more deeply, I sat down and placed my backpack and canvas bag on a high wooden shelf in a proprietorial manner. Then I breathed in the pleasure of briefly “owning” this quiet, private room designed for concentration and productivity. The very name “Study Booth” was an ideal to live up to. I knew I shouldn’t play games on my cell-phone or take a nap because it would disrespect a chamber devoted to preparing for important exams or crafting compositions. And with the door and its wall made of glass, my study behaviour was also an example to passing scholars.

After I reluctantly emerged from my booth, my last stop on the third floor was the large newspaper collection. A prominent sign showed a large pair of scissors imprisoned by a thick red circle and a diagonal slash mark. Surreptitious article-clippers beware!

Failing to note any naughty scissors at work, I descended to the second level, Language and Literature.

A popular floor at North York Central branch, Business and Urban Affairs was crowded with goal-oriented readers. All five private study booths were occupied and all available tables taken. One trio of patrons were making a day of it in the library. Camped out around a low table in the northwest corner, their writing surface was obscured by water bottles, fruit, croissants, papers, and cell-phones.

Notices in both English and Mandarin warned us to “watch our belongings.” The warning wasn’t excessively alarmist; during my visit, I actually heard an announcement over the intercom that a wallet had been reported stolen. On a less serious note, an exhibit of recommended books included the title How Come THAT Idiot’s Rich and I’m Not? Finally, a timely display on debt management suggested reading Tame the Debt Monster, Release from Debtor’s Prison, and Green with Envy: Why Keeping Up with the Joneses is Keeping Us in Debt.

Wondering if the wallet thief had neglected to read the books mentioned above, I walked to down to the third floor, Society and Recreation.

Early yesterday morning I got to talk about my library blog on CBC Radio! I was thrilled and a little nervous, but host Matt Galloway did a great job of putting me at ease. Thank you Matt for an engaging and fun interview!

If anybody would like to hear the interview, please check out http://c-raine.com/catherine-cbc-20100315.mp3.

It’s been a great season for the blog, as there was also an article about it in last Thursday’s Torontoist. Toronto loves its libraries!

The restful reading space in the side nodule by the red column was the first feature to capture my attention on the fifth floor. I especially liked the low spool-shaped coffee tables in this reading area, for they would make great surfaces for squat teapots if tea parties were allowed in the library. The whimsical stools contrasted with the sober study booths that lined the north wall. All four booths were inhabited by scholars absorbed in their work.

As I walked around the rest of this floor, I began to appreciate the eclectic range of topics that came under the umbrella of Science and Technology. Its magazine collection had everything from Tropical Fish Hobbyist to Spaceflight and Weightwatchers. Interested readers could also open books about quantum mechanics, spotted owls and boatbuilding, all without leaving the room. A Legal Aid Clinic awaited clients in the southwest corner, and on a lighter note, a nearby open cabinet contained a CD collection of sound effects. To jazz up patrons’ answering machines, they could choose from the following noises: bullfrog croak, lion roar, echo canyon, sexy laugh, and a “right to remain silent” admonition. For the theatre-lovers, there were steam railway sound effects, terror/mystery noises, and rainshowers.

The last notable item on the fifth level of North York Central Library was a “Beauty and Style” display. In this tall glass cabinet, a variety of beauty aids surrounded relevant photocopied book covers propped on stands. An old-fashioned perfume atomizer with a pink tassel rested on the middle shelf near a gold chain, a plain hairdryer, a mousse bottle, and a bottle of Fendi Eau de Toilette. I’m not sure what the serious science and technology students at nearby tables made of this display, but I did notice that nobody was leaping up to join me as a fellow spectator.

Leaving the objects of beauty and style for the day, I headed downstairs to Business and Urban Affairs.

In its immensity and comprehensiveness, North York Central Library (1987) was a universe unto itself. Located in the mall next to Mel Lastman Square, I was blown away by the sheer size, complexity, and scope of this branch. In fact, I felt so overwhelmed by the task of adequately describing all 168,022 square feet of it, I decided to write one post per floor, beginning with the sixth floor and working my way down.

The top floor, also known as the Gladys Allison Canadiana Room, was smaller than the preceding levels, creating an aeyrie-like effect. I leaned against a waist-high carpeted wall overlooking the atrium below and studied a sky mural on the west wall at eye level. The mural’s sky was very Northern, pressing down on mountains of ice. A wooden disk with a carved maple leaf echoed the Canadiana theme.

The lofty Canadiana Room seemed to represent the firmament of North York Central, but the sky mural wasn’t its absolute limit. A milky-purple galaxy alive with stars glimmered further overhead. I caught my breath when I casually looked up, for I hadn’t been expecting to see anything more infinite than the sky! My excitability was also heightened by the minor vertigo I was experiencing from my bird’s-eye perch. It made me appreciate the solidness of the structure I was leaning against; the sturdy upholstered wall minimized the sense of floating in the wide openness of the atrium.

Dividing North York Central branch into its east and west sides, the central atrium was like a canyon. From my east-side perspective in the Canadiana room, I could see over the atrium and the open staircases on both sides. From so high up, the vastness of this urban beehive of information and human endeavor was tangible. Reduced-sized patrons scurried about their scholarly business on multiple floors. A lone man worked at his laptop in the northwest observation tower of the fourth floor. A chatty person was squatted down against the carpeted ledge of another tower to answer a cell-phone summons. And on the first floor of the west side, a round table with radial dividers looked like a package of cheese wedges with miniature lactose-tolerant readers in attendance.

As I gazed further, the scene below began to bear resemblance to a massive 1980′s pinball machine. For example, the round observation circles at the edges of the east floors looked like a series of obstacles for a pinball to ricochet around. A thick red column vertically intersected all the circles from the fifth to the first floors, reinforcing the pinball effect. Even the staircase on the west side resembled a chute with a round basin at the end (rather like those old-fashioned cash registers that spit out change into a shallow bowl). The library could also be described as a giant charity coin contraption like the ones you see in Dairy Queen or Blockbuster. You drop in a donated quarter and watch it spin its way down a complicated series of chutes, drops, and channels.

When I started to wonder if any mountaineers had ever rappelled from the fifth floor to the lobby, I figured it was time to get moving. I stepped away from the hypnotic view and walked around the darkened microfilm room on the north side of the sixth floor, where the low lighting suited the pursuit of past mysteries. This research area featured glossy scanners next to large black computer screens. Genealogical microfilms and old newspapers waited patiently in cabinets.

The remaining section of this floor received extra light from the south-facing windows that overlooked Mel Lastman Square’s central pool far below. On a nearby wall was a portrait of Gladys Allison (1901-1979), who served on the North York Library Board from 1951 to 1967. Artist Mayc Setchell depicted a sympathetic bespectacled woman with short silver hair set in gentle waves. A seated Gladys and her manual typewriter were positioned in front of bookshelves which filled the entire background of the canvas. The majority of the books’ spines were blank, but Setchell chose to provide some titles, including Tomorrow Will Be Better, Lorna Doon, Miracle of the Breakfast Table, Short History of the English People, and The Works of Shakespeare.

Not far from Gladys’ painting was a life-size gilded oak lion with a pompadour mane and slightly protruding eyes. According to the display information, The Golden Lion of North York was made by Paul Sheppard, and it used to stand guard over the entrance to a nineteenth-century hotel near Sheppard and Yonge (naturally enough, The Golden Lion Hotel).

Paying my respects to the lion and the North York History Collection, I stepped into the elevator and pressed 5, Science and Technology.