In his most recent column ("Rock beats SciLi," Oct. 7), Chip Lebovitz '14 asserted that the long communal tables, bustling lobby and group study rooms at the Sciences Library create an atmosphere more conducive to social activities akin to "hanging out" as opposed to true, laser-pointed, marathon-session-style studying. He explains, reasonably, that the Rockefeller Library is more diffuse and has "post-Zombie apocalypse levels of quiet," making it the best place to study.
Not to knock the Rock, but the SciLi's where it's at.
Let's examine the two libraries. There's the SciLi, which in its very architecture is ambitious as it reaches up to the sky, though it admittedly comes off as a bit of a brute. The Rock, in contrast, is solidly grounded in the earth, overlooking the side of College Hill and the rest of Providence.
But both libraries are comprised mainly of stacks, which are flanked by islands of study either high up or spread out. So why do we so often hear students assert, "I'm more of a Rock person"? I would suggest that Brown manufacture T-shirts designating their wearers as "Team Rock" or "Team SciLi," but that excludes the folks who go both ways. And should we be defining our fellow Brown students by a SciLi-Rock binary anyway? Could it be that other places to study exist? Consider upper Faunce House, where eyes follow as your footsteps echo through the room, coffee places on Thayer Street or, heaven forbid, your own room.
We will stray from the libraries with such places every so often, but when it is time to hit the books or buckle down or roll up your sleeves or put the pedal to the metal or any other idioms for "get learned," many students prefer the libraries. We want studying to look like itself. But it probably would not make any difference if we study in a real-world candy land while surrounded by angels sliding down rainbows so long as the angels are not shouting at the tops of their lungs. Similarly, being surrounded by stacks of dusty books is unlikely to help you scrape out the extra few points you need to beat that curve.
But back to why the SciLi is better. Its very diversity of study space is its greatest advantage. In the basement alone, one can curl up in a couch facing a window, sprawl out on a communal table or hide away in a corner. Yes, it is not zombie quiet — not even in the holy zero decibel zone. The experience as a whole tends to be, in fact, social.
This works because, on a late night, you can easily find yourself a nice corner — there are many — and chug through your work. When the crushing loneliness brought on by the harsh lighting and uncrossed items on your to-do list sets in, you can get up and schmooze with one of the friends you have made over many shared hours of silently freaking out by each others' side. After talking to another human being, you will ideally have pushed the existential anxiety away for a bit and will be able to continue trying to have original thoughts — or memorize someone else's — for a little longer. And if you do need a little more solitude than the lower floors offer, it is not hard to move up to the quiet space on the fourth floor, which resembles a cozier and quieter basement, or the venerable stacks.
Yes, the SciLi is not the Main Green on a sunny and temperate day. You will not read a book in the embrace of that abstract lady statue in front of Faunce. You will not watch people juggle, play frisbee or sun-salute their ways through a glorious afternoon. You will be swathed in concrete. The SciLi, more reliable than a lover, will hold you for hours. But then you will emerge victorious, perhaps a little more fine-lined but also newly aware of what has been going on in your 9 a.m. class.
The SciLi is not, I believe, a Smith-Buonanno Hall body double or a Blue Room replacement — the former having those nice chalkboards and the latter offering great muffins. But it is a place of commiseration with the struggles of one's classmates, an occasionally splendid view of the sunset for those in the upper floors and, of course, many a late-night cram session fueled by the knowledge that being a student is a shared experience.
Camille Spencer-Salmon '14 probably spends too much time in libraries.
