For me, libraries are the unsung heroes of the book world, often overlooked or dismissed but nonetheless full of opportunities for wonder, comfort and community. From ancient centres of knowledge such as the Library of Alexandria, to the manuscript haven which constitutes the Bodleian Library, the library has had many an incarnation. As much as the breath-taking touchstones of academic culture fascinate me, I want to dedicate this post to exploring the equally vital role of the modern public library. I recognise that owning lots of books is a huge privilege, and isn't affordable for many people, so here is my love letter to the power of libraries as spaces where everyone can access books, no matter who they are or what their background is.
Whenever I walk to my local library (which is very often, and very near!), I feel this almost indescribable sense of belonging, as if I am walking home. Looking back throughout my life, libraries have played a key role for me as not just custodians of literature, but as safe spaces that are waiting for me to come to them whenever I need to. As an autistic young woman, the simple task of existing in a world which is too bright, too loud and too busy feels painful and overwhelming; for me, the sensory relief of stepping into the quiet sanctuary of a library allows me to just be, without any demands or additional sensory input. The satisfying order of the alphabetised and genre-defined shelves is a predictable and reliable system, there is a rule of minimal noise and a consistent routine of borrowing books out; these are all things which help me to feel safe and calm, as well as the comfort of being surrounding by rows and rows of books, a protective barrier to the rest of the world. To have a space that I can go to where I'm not expected to interact with others and where I can exist without pressure or judgement has kept me going during some really difficult times.
Another reason why libraries feel like such safe spaces is recognising other members of the community who use them on a regular basis. Seeing others who choose to retreat to libraries for the warmth, affordable internet and a hot drink, regardless of whether or not they borrow a book, feels hopeful in the face of what can often seem to be a hostile world. Libraries are one of the remaining few spaces that don't require your money or try to restrict the time you spend in them to a functional visit. They allow you to feel embraced by the books which surround you, without comment or observation; they allow you to exist, in whatever state that may be, and provide you with the basic things you need to carry on with your day; heat, sustenance, the opportunity for connection with likeminded people (if you so choose) and novels which have the power to make you feel uplifted, heard and seen. We need to take care of the libraries we have left, because the positive impact they have on people's lives is something really worth cherishing, and fighting for when those in power cannot recognise their benefits.
I can't write a love letter to libraries without mentioning some of the books they have led me to. One of my favourite sections to browse in my local library is the non-fiction area. Situated at the back, it feels very private, like I've discovered a secret treasure trove of books that no one else knows about. Although I am privileged enough to be able to afford to buy lots of books, works of non-fiction are more of an investment, so I tend to ask for these as gifts, or borrow them! There are a few non-fiction bookcases in my local library which I gravitate towards, namely the feminist section, the crystal/tarot reading section and the literature section (what could be better than books about books?!). In these shelves, I have found books which have reignited my passion for topics I haven't always had as much time to explore as I would have liked. One example is a slim volume called 'Why we read', published by Penguin Books. It features two-page essays on why we are drawn to non-fiction by some of the most prominent minds today- I nearly didn't read the book after opening it to a page written by someone whose views I really don't agree with, but skipping ahead to some of the other passages, I felt almost breathless. This was a declaration of love to non-fiction, both a psychological analysis and the story of the impact non-fiction can have on our lives when we open our minds to it. I don't normally read any non-fiction books cover-to-cover, but this made me look at them in a different light- instead of overwhelming academic tomes, they have become doors to new worlds and ways of thinking, a realisation which came at a time I really needed it.
As a fiction lover, libraries have also led me to lots of amazing books that I otherwise wouldn't have picked up. One of the benefits of library books being free is that you can take more of a risk, and try a book that you probably wouldn't buy without the fear of having wasted money. Some of the books mentioned in my previous posts (see the links at the end of this post if you haven't already read them!), specifically Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow, Babel and HappyHead, were library picks. I'd heard about HappyHead in the magazine 'Booktime', which I love picking up from my local independent bookshop, but had dismissed it on the basis of the premise being 'too sci-fi' for me; similarly, I had heard so much critical acclaim surrounding Babel, but I had wanted to physically look through a copy before I bought one to see how dominant the fantasy element of the narrative was, as this is a genre which doesn't usually appeal to me. Borrowing these books from the library allowed me to feel more relaxed when I was reading them- there was no pressure to like them simply to stop a purchase from being a waste- but also because I felt like I was meant to come across those books when I did, giving me a chance to become more open to genres I would usually steer clear of and providing me with the opportunity to connect with themes and protagonists which had a deep emotional impact on me. Some of the lessons and perspective shifts I gained from reading these books have helped me to grow as a person, I just needed my local library to gently encourage me to give them a go.
Whenever I borrow a book, even if I don't end up reading it, I feel happy just knowing that the author(s) will be paid an (admittedly tiny) bit of money, helping their career in the book industry survive for a little bit longer. Their books help me, whether by providing comfort, escape or new ideas, and I help them in return, as well as the libraries which are slowly being taken away from us.
Next time you walk past your local library, go in and borrow something; it will help keep that space alive just as much as it will help you.
The 'previous posts' mentioned here are:
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