Following our July critique of the new Rem Koolhaas-designed Seattle Public Library, we received many opinions from readers on what makes a good building, and in particular a good library. We're pleased to reprint a sample of this correspondence, and we encourage readers to send us their responses to the current edition of Making Places.

No place to stop

I reviewed the design of the Seattle Public Library in its later stages as an architect serving on the Seattle Design Commission, an advisory body that primarily assesses the urban design aspects of the city's publicly funded, capital improvement projects. The features of the library that troubled me most were its two entries, the primary one along Fourth Avenue and secondary one along Fifth Avenue, and the collision of the iconic cage structure with the sidewalk along Fifth Avenue. Recently, I also had an opportunity to participate in an assessment of the interior with members of a universal design group here in Seattle, many of them elderly and/or disabled.

Both entries consist of recessed rathole-sized doorways into the space, each identical, each with two very large, windowless metal ADA doors mounted flush and set directly to the side of the rat holes. Reportedly, the architect designed this configuration intentionally as a contrast to the all glass facade. Whatever the reason, it seemed curious to have such small doorways into a public building and to distinguish between the able-bodied and disabled routes. Why not one generous entry, especially on the "front" face of the building?

In everyday usage, most people seem to opt for the more publicly-scaled, but totally opaque, doors to both enter and exit the building--a pretty dangerous situation that will surely need alteration after a few people get blindsided by a door that is being swung by someone moving in the opposite direction. The ungraciousness of these entries continues on either side of the doorway, interior and exterior. Just at the point where visitors and passersby need a space to pause--a threshold--for everything from waiting for a friend to putting up an umbrella, readjusting to a difference in light levels, and deciding which direction to move, no space exists.

As soon as you pass through the building skin, you are within a circulation path; you need to make up your mind and keep moving (a major complaint from the folks in the universal design group), especially at the Fourth Avenue side that exits directly onto the busier of the two sidewalks. This west-facing facade has an overhang for weather protection, formed by a rotation in the cage structure, but I wonder how this sloping overhang will work for passersby during a windy downpour or whether the grasses (now mostly dead) will ever grow in the unnatural triangular spaces they are planted in.

On the other hand, the Fifth Avenue entry, which is recessed within a teepee-like space of at the base the cage, shows a bit more promise for social improvisation. During reviews, I kept pondering how the teepee would be (mis)used. So far, people are chaining bicycles there, but over time I suspect that the homeless will find this a delightful place to sleep at night when this street is quite deserted. Without undue policing, passersby will not only have the sharp angle of the building forbidding them to sit down and enjoy a view of the city to the east, they will have the sharp smell of urine to contend with. But at least this avenue will have a public use.

Sharon E. Sutton, PhD, FAIA Seattle, WA

Should libraries say "Shushhhh"?

While I have not seen Rem Koolhaas's Seattle Library, and I do agree with your complaints about a lot of contemporary public architects and their much lauded designs, I take exception to some of your statements.

Comparing a public library with a retail space on 5th Avenue is really comparing apples and oranges isn't it? I assume some semblance of form still follows (or should follow) a building's function.

Think of libraries you have enjoyed... did they "look out" as you suggest Seattle's should? Or did they instead offer a quiet place removed from the outside world where one could concentrate on, dream about, the subject at hand?

Cynthia Barber Albuquerque, NM

You call that a good building?

Where are the street trees? Where is the public space? Your Manhattan example appears not to respect the streetscape but brings the retail commercial space right up to the public space and crowds the pedestrian without providing space for pedestrian amenities. Admittedly, the glass wall makes the site more interesting than a blank wall be providing an interior view. However, the building itself seems to be unimaginative.

Images are important. I think you may want to capture a photo of the Seattle Library when a public event is being held in the public space with many people in attendance. You may also want to think about the purpose and function of a library -- a place to do study and research in a tranquil environment without distractions. It may be a design intention to not mix the interior activity with the hustle and bustle of the street.

Brian McNerney Portland, OR

Editor's Note

PPS staff agree with the assertion that a library's form should follow its function as a place of learning and study. But what we may not have made clear in our article is that the Seattle Library is supposed to serve multiple functions: information center, cultural center, economic hub, even tourist attraction. Salt Lake City, Vancouver, Minneapolis, and San Francisco have also invested huge sums in central libraries with the hopes of attracting more people downtown--and several more cities have new libraries in the works. It is possible for these libraries to have both quiet, contemplative space for reading and study, as well as more active spaces devoted to uses (retail, restaurants, concerts) not traditionally associated with libraries.