Amid plans to save energy this summer by reducing the use of air
conditioning and ventilation on campus, UCLA Facilities Management
and library staff are collaborating to ensure books don’t
become the next casualty of rising fuel prices.
Facilities Management placed Powell and Charles E. Young
Research libraries on a list released in March of buildings that
would have circulation systems turned off Sundays between June 26
and Sept. 25.
But after librarians expressed concern over the impact of
climate change on research materials, facilities staff agreed to
help monitor temperature and humidity in Young Research Library in
a trial run of the shutdown, said Susan Parker, deputy university
librarian and chief financial officer.
The test period, slated for this quarter, should last over 12
hours, with 10 detectors set up around the library, Parker
said.
Kristen St. John, the collections conservator in charge of
preserving books, said she will be looking for sharp rises in
humidity or temperature, which could accelerate the death of books
by speeding up a process called acid hydrolysis, which causes paper
to lose its flexibility.
Over time, paper becomes brittle, turning yellow or brown and
cracking easily, she said. This is the point of no return for
research materials, as acid hydrolysis breaks fibers in paper, an
irreversible process, she added.
“Once it’s gone, it’s gone,” St. John
said. “The higher the temperature, the faster they’re
going to deteriorate. It’s like if you left a sandwich out of
the fridge.”
Radical fluctuations in the atmosphere can also cause damage.
Some books are bound with leather, which expands and contracts as
it absorbs and releases moisture in its surroundings, St. John
said.
Facilities staff have made no promises about what they will do
if preservation crews recommend against the planned cutback, Parker
said.
But David Johnson, director of energy services and utility, said
his department will keep air systems running all summer if
librarians decide reductions could hurt the books.
“Saving energy is a necessary thing. Our budgets are
negative right now,” he said.
“On the other hand, things that we do to attempt to save
energy cannot result in damaging the materials of the
university.”
Johnson estimates the university would save about $200,000 by
cutting consumption this summer. A similar program implemented in
the winter reduced costs by $180,000 in 2003 and $250,000 in 2004,
according to Facilities Management’s Web site.
While books feel changes in the atmosphere, the impacts
wouldn’t be immediately apparent, St. John said. It takes
years for paper and other materials to become irreparable, and
there are steps she and her colleagues take to slow down the
degradation.
Besides a paper cutter several feet long and shelves lined with
texts ““ some in need of new bindings, others with shattered
pages ““ a deacidifying machine is a key component of the lab
where St. John works.
Paper can absorb pollutants in the air like nitrogen and sulfur
oxides, causing acid to form in it. The machine counters acid
hydrolysis by removing acid from the pages.
Though it’s counterintuitive, older books often fare
better in the long run, St. John said. Prior to the 1800s, people
made paper from cotton or linen rag, which are not prone to
deterioration.
Books from the mid-19th to 20th centuries, when literacy rates
were on the rise and wood pulp became a popular paper ingredient,
have short life spans, she said. Newsprint also fades quickly.
UCLA’s Conservation Lab, built in 2003, is housed at the
Southern Regional Library Facility at the bottom of a road adjacent
to Charles E. Young Drive, behind Saxon Suites.
St. John, who has been working at the university since January
2004, said she and other staff repair 40 to 60 books each month.
The texts are exposed to a variety of harm, including rough
handling ““ being crushed in copy machines or dropped ““
and fading caused by light, St. John said.
But while bindings and other damage can be repaired, not much
can be done after pages become brittle.
Standing in one corner of the lab next to a set of shelves, St.
John pulled out a small book with tiny black Chinese characters
spilling down a cracked, yellowed background. Someone had tried to
fix the book, a victim of acid hydrolysis, by taping together parts
of pages that were, in St. John’s words,
“shattered” like glass.
“That’s the end point of paper,” she said.
“That’s how it dies.”