THE Navajo alphabet is the Major Irritant of the Week.

The semester is winding down up here. I have one paper left to write. So far I'm stuck in the research stage. I've spent most of my research period looking for one particular book, Luci Tapahonso's Dine Alphabet, A Navajo ABC. I don't really need it, I suppose, but it's the principle of the thing.

My search started at the Boston Public Library (BPL). The BPL used to be a fairly friendly place. You'd have a chat with the security guard while he searched your bag on the way out. (Standard procedure). Now they have metal detectors.

The security guard doesn't say much any more. All the magazines and periodicals have been removed from general viewing and now you have to request the exact issue you want. No more reading the old Harper's to pass the time. In the five years since I last lived in Boston the general public has become public enemy number one at the BPL.

I thought it would be easy to find this alphabet book at the BPL. It's a big library. There's a lot of books. One of them has to be the Dine Alphabet, just by the laws of probability. I guess I don't know my probability laws too well.

THE book was not on the usual shelves. I had to request it. After I'd given the librarian the name of the book, the call number, the date of birth of the author, the author's cat's name and date of birth, he said: "Oh, this is in the Jordan Collection."

"How long will it take to get?"

I was thinking minutes, possibly hours.

He scratched his head.

"The Jordan Collection is off site. There are only two deliveries per day. Today is Wednesday and tomorrow is Thanksgiving."

"So, Friday," I said hopefully. "Monday? Maybe."

He made a grimace and I could see I wouldn't even get it five days from now. I'm not even exaggerating this part. "It's a children's book," I said. "How can there not be a copy available in the library?"

He shrugged.

"Try the children's section then."

So off I trudged to the children's section.

"Yes," the children's librarian said brightly, "we have two copies."

"Great," I said, "just point me to the shelf."

"You'll have to ask at the request desk. They're in the Jordan Collection."

"You mean to say that you have two copies of this book and both are in deep storage in Siberia," I said. "You don't have one ripped copy around for the actual children to read?"

"Books in the Jordan Collection are usually rare or special," she said, as if parroting from an employee manual. "There are plenty of other alphabet books you could try."

"Er . . . no, I already know the alphabet. It's this book I need (obviously)."

Defeated and unwilling to spend two weeks waiting for an alphabet book, I went home. I looked the book up on Amazon.com. This "rare" book came out in 1999 and from what I could gather there were plenty of both new and old copies hanging around. However, I was unwilling to shell out money for a book I only needed a quick look at. I thought I'd keep looking. I refused to believe that there wasn't a copy around somewhere, easily obtainable.

After Thanksgiving I started looking again. It turns out there's a big library here in Brookline. It's been closed for two years undergoing renovations, but there's another library around the corner, apparently.

So off I went in search of the Coolidge Corner Library. When I found it, the entranceway smelled like human urine and it was quite small. The upside was that the librarians were friendly and the books were easily accessible. When I signed up for my library card the librarian said: "Funny, you're the tenth person with the a BPL card to sign up today."

"Yeah, I wonder why," I said.

She turned out to be a neighbour and it was nice to have a chat with someone besides my husband.

"I don't know what this neighborhood is coming to," she said. "When I moved in, my building was rent controlled. Now everywhere I look are rich people. Rich people everywhere."

As I looked around two things became apparent. This library was less concerned with preserving things for future generations. Thank goodness. The Coolidge Corner Library appeared to be more concerned with finding something for this generation to read.

When I asked in the children's section about the alphabet book, the librarian knew immediately the book I was talking about. She didn't even spell Navajo wrongly when she typed the book title into the computer.

"Yes, we have it. The computer says we have two in the library. Just follow me."

STUMBLING over toddlers, I followed as she led me to the picture book wall. Unfortunately, hunt as she might, no Dine ABCs.

"Maybe it walked out of the library," she said. "They have it in Newton."

"How long will it be before I get it?"

She shrugged.

"Could be a day, could be a week."

So I let her order the book from Newton. I know the book will arrive long after my paper is actually due, but hey, at least I tried.

But in the meantime, if anyone knows their Navajo ABCs, let me know, preferably in the next hour or so. I can't wait until I'm a famous author and all my books are locked away in deep storage safe from the grip of vicious readers.