"Copy-Cat" has a whole new meaning

Last week I learned all about making and reading MARC records, only to find out this week that such a thing as "copy cataloguing" exists... And thank goodness!

Copy cataloguing is exactly what the name implies: copying a catalogue entry from another source. This process is deemed acceptable because it saves time and energy in creating a record where one already exists in another location.

There are multiple sources from which to copy catalogue entries. On the one hand, some sources are free, but require more effort on your part to obtain and copy. MARC records can be viewed in the Library of Congress catalogue, or AMICUS (Canadian National Catalogue). Additionally, often CIP (Cataloguing in Publication) data is printed on the verso of the resource. (Although, as a result of the fact that the CIP is created before the final product is completed and published, the accuracy of this information is sometimes questionable). On the other hand, some sources cost money, but they provide services, such as delivering specific catalogue records (including MARC format) into your library catalogue. An example of one such source is: Worldcat.

Ultimately, when copy cataloguing, one must consider that just because a record already exists, it does not mean that it is a complete and superior catalogue entry; it just merely exists. Thus, the quality, depth, and accuracy of a catalogue entry must be assessed when "copying" the data from an existing record. Overall, I think that it would be considered "best practice" to enhance each copied record to meet the specific needs of your patrons and the library.

MARC-o.... polo!

MARC records are like the wizard of Oz: they seem scary and intimidating and impenetrable, but, in fact, they are a simple little humbug puttering about behind the scenes employing oodles of routine procedures and rules. Lesson 6, regarding reading and writing MARC records, helped me to "see behind the curtain," so to speak.

It strikes me that reading/deciphering MARC records, and writing MARC records are two completely different skills. One only has to have a general sense of how MARC records work in order to interpret the data found on a MARC record. To write a MARC record though, therein lies the difficult task. Some questions that arise are: What information must/needs to be included? Why are there multiple fields for similar types of information? Do all of these fields need to be utilized? After working through and creating a MARC record on my own, I realized that what gets included (or excluded) from the record is very dependent on the subjectivity of the cataloguer. Yes, MARC records are coded catalogue entries created for the purpose of allowing computers to read the data, but human beings are the ones inputing the data, and thus, subjectivity and variance can never be dispelled.

Most of my hesitation and fear about MARC records revolved around wanting to get the record "correct;" however, through these exercises I've realized that there is no one right way of making a MARC record. A more complete MARC record could possibly result in a greater number of access points for patrons (students and teachers), but it does not mean that a more "basic" version of a MARC record is incorrect; it's just not as useful as a more complete record would be.

Furthermore, first-time cataloguers and teacher-librarians need to remember that we are allowed, no wait, encouraged to use the many manuals and documents supporting the creation of MARC records. There is nothing wrong with looking up field names, or subfield headings. Memorization is not the name of the game when it comes to MARC records; it's thorough formulaic description. So, go ahead and use the manual. Be my guest!

Additional Note:

In order to make this resource more beneficial, I am inclined to include a MARC record "cheat sheet" for the basic field tags. (This is in no way a complete list of all possible MARC record field tags; it is simply a list of the ones which I find are used regularly and consistently). Here is my selection:

010 - LCCN
020 - ISBN
040 - Cataloguing source
041 - Language code
050 - LC call number
082 - Dewey classification
099 - Local call number
100 - Author main entry
110 - Corporate main entry
245 - Title (and statement of responsibility)
250 - Edition
260 - Publication information
300 - Physical description
490 - Series statement
500 - General note
504 - Bibliographic note
505 - Contents note
520 - Summary
521 - Target audience
538 - System details
586 - Awards
650 - Subject - topical term
651 - Subject - geographic term
658 - Curriculum objective
700 - Personal name added entry
830 - Series title added entry
856 - URL
901 - Local barcode
903 - Local price

ISBD (or as a layman might say, "the deets")

ISBD? "Deets?" What are you talking about, you might be thinking right now. So, okay, okay, let me define some terms and make some clarifications:

ISBD stands for International Standard Bibliographic Description (just what you thought, right?...). As for "deets," well, that's just internet speak for "details." I'm trying my best here to make Descriptive Cataloguing as cool and hip as possible. Working yet?

So, here's what I gleaned from this week's required reading: ISBD establishes areas, which must be included (... or, at least, is highly recommended) in a catalogue listing for an item. These 8 common sense areas are as follows:

Area 1 - Title and statement of responsibility (a.k.a. a fancy way of saying, "who wrote or created it")
Area 2 - Edition
Area 3 - Material specific details (only really used for maps, sheet music, or electronic resources)
Area 4 - Publication or distribution
Area 5 - Physical description (how many pages/discs, size of the book in cm, any colour illustrations)
Area 6 - Series (title of series, that is, if item is part of a series)
Area 7 - Notes (any other piece of information about the resource, which you think is important, but does not fit into one of the established "areas.")
Area 8 - ISBN - International Standard Book Number (the long 10 or 13 digit number)

When a new book or resource comes into the library, a cataloguer will record these pieces of data about the resource in the catalogue, which form access points for patrons (in my case, students or teachers). Access points are most often the title, author, keyword, or subject words. Although, an access point can be any piece of unique datum that would likely lead the searcher to their desired resource.

Intner and Weihs in their chapter, "Description," from Standard cataloguing for school and public libraries, seem to have a tone in their writing that cataloguing is very difficult. Even though their book was published in 2001, it feels a bit outdated. All of their examples involve card catalogues, which, correct me if I am wrong, have gone the way of the dinosaur. As I see it, cataloguing at its core is very simple: record the data from the title page, verso, back cover, label, or whatever, you name it. If it is information describing or defining the item, record it in the catalogue. Chances are someone will (or may) use that piece of information to locate the resource.

As part of our class activity and discussion this week, a number of my classmates were noticing that many current online catalogues did not follow the prescribed order for areas laid out by ISBD. Rather than starting with area 1 and continuing through to area 8, modern online catalogues are taking liberties with the structure of their content. It should be noted that all the information for each area are (generally) present, it's just the order of presentation that is inconsistent. In addition, part of the ISBD framework is a standardized system of punctuation. My argument is that, perhaps, now that cataloguing has jumped from the limited space of a physical card to the limitless space in an online catalogue, the need to match the prescribed punctuation, and therefore, rigid order of areas, is unnecessary. Most online catalogues define the type of content with a heading, and thereby, making this complex series of ISBD punctuation redundant.

Now, having read David Conners' article, "A Ghost in the Catalog: The Gradual Obsolescence of the Main Entry," regarding the history of cataloguing, and specifically issues surrounding the concept of main entry, it seems true to me that, at one point in time, making decisions about what to record (as a main entry or "access point") was a big deal. But now, according to Conners, with theses digital and online catalogue systems and MARC records, which do not distinguish levels of "importance" within the data, a cataloguer no longer needs to be hierarchically selective. In fact, I would argue that cataloguers ought to aim at prolificacy.

And with that, I'll say, "see you next time." Stay tuned for an upcoming blog on MARC records. Ooooh, exciting!