Carrier Library: Interesting, intelligent, adventurous

Few and far between as they are, there are some surprisingly uplifting moments in the dark, atmospheric 1995 film, "Seven." One of these moments is when Detective William Somerset (surnamed after the famous author, played by Morgan Freeman) makes a late-night journey to the metropolitan library on the hunt for clues relating to a string of serial killings. Inside, the library is empty — save for some card-playing security guards, rows of broad, wood desks highlighted in the glow from antique reading lights, with Detective Somerset dominated by the lobby's grand, cinematically aesthetic architecture. In short, it looks like the library of an intellectual's dreams: big, quiet and full of books.

Thus begins the character's search for books — a veritable bibliography of the macabre including "Paradise Lost" and the Divine Comedy — the literary odyssey choreographed to the quaint romance of Bach's "Air for G String." All at once I forgot about the film's bloated corpses, clinging shadows and frighteningly sensical antagonist; I forgot about the festering pizza box on the floor and the presentation I had to prepare for the following morning. I was swept away by the warmness, the intellectual atmosphere of this imaginary library and the mythological quest for information that so few people nowadays appreciate.

So what did I do about it, you ask?

The following evening, while a light drizzle fell over the darkened campus grounds, I donned my trusty windbreaker, saddled my umbrella, grabbed my weather-beaten Walkman and took a walk to Carrier Library. I had no group meeting, no last-minute research paper to punch out, no thousand-page literary anthology that needed to be read in time for tomorrow's quiz — my journey to the library was solely for entertainment … a cheap, desparate attempt at reliving a movie.

Hasn't life taught us, though, that no matter how hard we try, cinematic events belong on the screen and not in real life? It's impossible to apply the fantasy of a movie to the brutal reality of our lives. This was the fear in my mind as I sloshed through the soggy grass on the Quad, that people don't fall in love and don't get away with murder like they do in movies, so why would my reinterpretation of Morgan Freeman's visit to the library work? The thought was strong enough to make me turn around and simply suffer through the latest ungodly hour of "Survivor."

But I didn't turn back; instead, I strolled through the doors of Carrier Library, wincing at the lack of romanticism in the establishment's lobby but thankful that it was a lobby nonetheless and eerily quiet as well. I took my time walking up the stairs, listening to the dense echo of my footfalls, the frequent squeak of my rain-sleeked sneakers, inhaling that rich (and overpowering) library air. I wanted to nestle myself in the stacks, those hidden realms that appear to be a subset of the library, hidden from view like a malignant growth or an unwanted child.

For that evening, I chose stack level five, accessing the hidden staircase by way of the second floor. The atmosphere was cryptic, as expected. Way in the back of my mind, where we store those childish thoughts of the boogeyman and that nasty elementary school bully, I suddenly didn't want to go into the claustrophobic maze of packed shelves. I felt like Dante must have felt before entering the Dark Wood or Beowulf before the three stack levels, making my way into the art section where I browsed through the works of Picasso, Matisse and Goya, wondering as I turned each page when the last time was that someone opened this or that book. The music in my ears changed from romantic to baroque and back to romantic as I paced and prowled and paraded along the empty rows and levels, feeling like the most powerful, intellectual man in the world. All of a sudden I didn't blame the old hermit who lost himself in the stacks. why would you want to leave where there's so much knowledge and so much silence to enjoy it in? It's almost worth the nasty fingernails and the nastier madness.

My field trip/fantasy, however, came to a close after almost an hour of frantic, Indiana Jones-esque exploration. I felt guilty that I didn't have a bullwhip or a torch or Detective Somerset's fierce determinism, but nonetheless, my foray into Carrier Library was adventuresome, intellectual, disturbing and at times humorous. There's a wealth of information to satiate the hungriest of curiosities and all of it's free. It's a deal you're likely to never find again.

So wander through the library sometime when it's dark and drizzly outside, when you have nothing else to do, when you're craving a journey, be it a spiritual, intellectual, entertaining or even a time-killing one. And if you're feeling kind enough, you might want to bake some brownies for the lost and lonely hermit.

He can usually be found shuffling between the fourth and fifth stack levels.