It's wonderfully hard to describe Library Science 001, the first publication from Kaia Gerber and Alyssa Reeder's Library Science Book Club. It seems to defy expectation and classification from the word go, and again at every turn of the page, reframing its function and medium with glee and vigour. A cloth bound hardback with an archival image from Collier Schorr inlaid to the cover, it immediately presents itself as something intentionally mysterious, a portal into a way of thinking about literature that speaks against the mainstream. With a list of contributors that span time, place, and mediums, the publication includes scans from Cookie Mueller's teenage notebooks, scripts for plays, experimental prose and poetry in progress, polished writing and late night texts, fashion photography and personal archives, all are presented with a minimally interfering art direction that lets the content speak without distraction or interruption. The sequencing feels like it speaks to a digital way of engaging with content; short form, sporadic, each new piece scratching a different itch with little bearing to what came before or after. But that is not to say it feels haphazard, quite the opposite. Moving through the work chronologically feels like moving through a perfectly curated party, dropping in on unexpected conversations and disparate groups all celebrating the same thing. And this is why the book, and the work that Library Science has been doing for the last 6 years, works so well. It takes literature away from a place of preciousness, strips of it any hierarchy, removes it from its pedestal as something distinct from life or separated from more visual communication and places it firmly in the present, accessible by anyone. By presenting very serious writing in a casual, familiar format, the writing is allowed to be taken less seriously, as it should be. Library Science is a beautiful publication that bridges the gap between fashion, photography, art, and literature in a way that feels genuinely novel, and decidedly necessary.