At 15, I became self-aware. I started working in the public library. Maybe it was earlier. If my memory banks are not malfunctioning and have not been tampered with, I started out shelving books. I do know that I read all the books in the young adult section of the library. Encyclopedia Brown. Ramona. Jo. The Witch of Black Bird Pond. And a book about young Quakers in love. I ended up reading the Large Print books in the adult section. Barbara Cartland. Mary Stewart. Elizabeth Cadell. Westerns. Gothic romances. Mystery suspense. Before I got to anything too risqué, I went to college.
I took all the required courses, but discovered acting and the wonders of the arts, and the joys of serendipity, of finding out things you can’t explain or understand because you were wandering the library stacks and found Radclyffe Hall’s The Well of Loneliness. Reading books, writing poetry, playing instruments, acting, watching TV, sports took me places I never imagined. Made me risk. But I had to knuckle down, finish my studies, and graduate, so I did.
During my entire time in college, I worked at the university library and the law library. After college, I continued to work at the law library while I decided what my next steps would be. One of my various jobs involved being an evening circulation desk supervisor. I found I liked helping students and faculty at the law library circulation desk. And I wanted to get better at it. I asked the law library director at the time about how I can answer some of the questions I got and he gave me a copy of Legal Research in a Nutshell, and I was off and running. It may have also been then that I started trying to compile lists of answers to frequently asked questions. Or maybe later. But I now had my career path. I was going to be a legal reference librarian. Not just any legal reference librarian. The world’s greatest legal reference librarian, because, if you’re going to do something, why not excel at it? Why be mediocre? Where’s the fun in that?
So I embarked on my career. I attended library school, then law school, and became a law librarian. And thus began my professional quest to determine what makes a great legal reference librarian, and be one. I created legal research guides. I compiled FAQ lists to expedite answering questions at the reference desk. I taught legal research classes. I did one-off in-class lectures. I attended conferences and made sure to attend all the relevant educational programs. I wrote articles on how to research topics. I compiled bibliographies. I created crossword puzzles related to legal research topics to make them more interesting. And I presented at conferences on all types of topics.
But the question of how to assess greatness in legal reference librarianship dogged me. How do I become what I aspired to be? There were several possible models of greatness. The authors of the legal research textbooks and guides, and columns on legal reference work in law library publications. Colleagues who combined in-depth knowledge of legal bibliography and substantive law with commitment to service. Colleagues whose assistance patrons clearly valued. User satisfaction surveys, maybe? But, in the back of my mind, I kept on thinking that another general index of greatness had to be speed and accuracy – how quickly you can respond correctly to a patron request? How wonderful it would be if I answered every question at the reference desk correctly, quickly, and efficiently? I would not waste the user’s time. They would come away with answers they liked each time. I, Robot.
But, is great legal reference really about answering the question asked, or is it about the user being satisfied that they have been helped? A user could have the wrong answer, but still value the assistance they received because the librarian helping was friendly, empathetic, and cared? Remembered their names? Asked them about themselves, their day? That does not compute. If wrong answers are okay, then how do you assess greatness? What makes a great legal reference librarian? Could the greatest legal reference librarian be, a robot?
With the advent of ROSS, the “robot lawyer”, it’s becoming more real that there could be a robot law librarian.
And, at a recent conference, someone called me the “Google” of international law librarians. Is legal reference librarianship just like being an AI law librarian to users – just a source for answers, or is there more?
Would users be satisfied if, instead of a human being, they were served by a robot at the law library reference desk? Would interacting with a machine be as valuable to a library patron? Would a robot law librarian care about the user as a person? Is the legal reference transaction just about the user asking a question and quickly getting the correct answer? Is there satisfaction for the legal reference librarian in just being a source for answers? Being a Westlaw Answers, an Answers.com, an Ask Jeeves, a Quora, a Medium Daily Digest, a Google?
A colleague thinks that a robot law librarian could answer about 90% of the reference questions asked, but for the other 10%, you need someone with deep expertise who is able to answer complicated questions with thought. A user with a complex question does not want a long-winded answer or a short, quick answer. A user wants a legal reference librarian who is aware of the context and can give answers that draw on their extensive knowledge of the relevant resources suitable to the question and the user. That is the measure of greatness – extensive knowledge of resources and thoughtfulness in responding.
So, to become the great legal reference librarian I aspire to be, do I deepen my knowledge, the artificial intelligence? Do I improve my emotional intelligence? Do I let the arts back in again, and risk being wrong, but having a satisfied user because I have been creative, caring, and thoughtful of their needs, and personalized, humanized the reference transaction? Do I “wander the library stacks” in a reference interview to discover new, interesting things I might not understand, but perhaps new ways to help a user?
There are no awards given for great legal reference librarianship, just for greatness in law librarianship generally. Maybe if there were one, there would be publicly acclaimed general models for what it means to be a great legal reference librarian, and I can stop wondering if the greatest one is a knowledgeable, caring human being or, a robot. Should I, to become the great legal reference librarian I seek to be, become, finally I, Robot?