Red-Hot and Filthy Library Smut

By “library smut” I am in no way referring to the photo books on native peoples, or the illustrated health manuals, or any of the other volumes which, in your childhood, you lurked about the library aisle to find with the sole purpose of sneaking guilty glances at naked bodies. Nor am I referring to the “risqué” novels by Miller, Cleland, Réage, or Lawrence [or Burton (unexpurgated Arabian Nights), or Colette, or Nin, or Sheikh Nefzaoi (The Perfumed Garden)] you leafed impatiently through as a teenager. No. What I’m talking about here is the full-frontal objectification of the library itself. Oh yeah.

Just sumptuous pictures. I've been to the British Library reading room (of course - it was not far from work), but none of the others, alas. When I went to the UK, it was with the intention of eventually going to Trinity College in Dublin to study computational linguistics. I wish I had. I particularly like the libraries in Rio, Den Haag, and the Rijksmuseum in Amsterdam. Pure sex.

I think I need this book. Or to be living in one of those places.