Before I get to my frets about the Carnegie Library of Pittsburgh, a treasure that must do more with less each passing day, let me celebrate its wonder.

Let's start with perhaps the most obnoxiously titled book ever written, "1,001 Books You Must Read Before You Die." A gaggle of British eggheads threw this list together a few years ago (click here to see it), wrote a bit about their selections, slapped a cover around it, and let the arguments commence.

I had no interest in the book itself (but if you do, the Carnegie can get it to any public library in Allegheny County). I only wanted the list, which I found on the Internet, and which suggested I needed to read about 890-something more novels before I reach room temperature.

What, and miss "The Simpsons"? Fat chance.

Still, earlier this year, I carried the list into the majestic main branch in Oakland and started pulling the more slender novels from the shelves like a chef grazing the organic produce aisle. I sat at the table with a tall stack, flipped through them, selected three authors I'd never read before, and a few weeks later returned for more.

The list isn't all highbrow fare. "Get Shorty" by Elmore Leonard, "Casino Royale" by Ian Fleming, a handful of novels by Kurt Vonnegut, and Patricia Highsmith's "The Talented Mr. Ripley" -- my favorite Eisenhower era sociopath -- are on the list along with the novels of James Joyce, Leo Tolstoy and other dead wordsmiths you need for your reading merit badge. If the Carnegie can't provide all 1,001, it can come very close, and that singular service is "free to the people" just like Andy wanted.

Anyone who has checked his Internet or cable bill can only call that miraculous.

But revenue for the library is flat and the system has cut its hours at the same time that circulation and visits are up. Consumers have cut back, particularly in buying cars, which means sales tax revenue is down, which means libraries will be getting less money from Allegheny County's 1 percent Regional Asset District tax. That also funds parks, stadiums and dozens of arts groups.

Barbara Mistick, president of the Carnegie Library of Pittsburgh, can boast that the 19 branches drew more visitors than the Steelers and Pirates combined last year, but that doesn't buy any books or computer time. About 70 percent of the Carnegie Library of Pittsburgh's revenue comes from that RAD tax.

The phenomenon of demand rising as resources plummet is "emblematic of what all nonprofits face," Grant Oliphant, president of The Pittsburgh Foundation, said.

Mr. Oliphant, Ms. Mistick and Sally Sleeper, a Rand Corp. analyst who assessed Carnegie Library's future, were on a panel I moderated at the Rand offices in Oakland last week. The idea was to figure a way to sustain not just the Carnegie Library of Pittsburgh's' branches, but the 44 independent libraries that are part of the Allegheny County Library Association.

We came out of the forum with no real answers.

Tax increases are not an option. The systems could merge -- that idea has been around longer than most books in the stacks -- but that's tricky. There may come a day when a RAD board leans on the 45 systems with 73 branches to come together for greater efficiency, but that's a fight few are ready to have now.

Andy Carnegie made a distinction back when, endowing his museums but not his libraries. He sprang for the bone hunts but not any more books because he wanted the municipalities to operate the libraries he built. He considered them as a necessity, not a frill, and he'd see computers the same way. Library patrons keep them in constant use. Hundreds of people without home computers thus cross the digital divide, some of them re-entering the job market that way.

Since last November, coin jars have been at library desks but you have to hunt for them. I walked into the Downtown branch on Friday afternoon and asked about one, and the librarian reached behind the desk to pull up an empty jar partially obscured by the counter. I dropped a buck in.

Ms. Mistick says they've taken in about $2,000 since November.

The donor card program -- $30 for individuals and $50 for families -- has brought in about 900 takers.

One evening after school last week, I drove our daughters to the Woods Run branch and we walked out with a bagful: 10 DVDs (nine for the kids), nine children's books and two renewed English novels for my wife. They also spent time on the computers while I read Newsweek and The New Yorker.

If those of us enjoying this embarrassment of riches reach into our wallets occasionally, we can keep branches open as often as we like and still make out like Ali Baba. ("One Thousand and One Nights" is on my read-before-death list.) Like so much in Pittsburgh, this isn't a matter of adding anything, it's a struggle to keep what we have.