Ode to the Library
Let’s talk for a minute about how much I love public libraries.
The first book I ever checked out was The Bobbsey Twins at Pilgrim Rock. Or rather, my mom helped me find and check it out. I was four, and I can still picture where it was on the shelf. We went back to that library often, and I knew everything about the kids’ book room (and later the young adult area).
I can still remember spending every trip digging for the newest Babysitters Club books . . . checking the paperback racks (those spinny wire ones) and this big pile of books that were on a lower shelf for some reason. It was like a treasure hunt—and I would occasionally be rewarded. Oh, the excitement of a Babysitters’ Club I hadn’t yet read! (I did also occasionally read quality literature.)
One of the first things I do when I end up in a new place is go to the library. In London, where I spent the second semester of my freshman year, I was able to get a card from the local library, after proving that I was actually residing in Highbury temporarily. Just a quick walk across the Highbury Fields, a quick look around to acquaint myself with the layout, and I was ready to go. I devoured Catherine Cookson that semester; every week I would take a whole stack back to my room to read.
In Kansas, the summer I spent six weeks on an intentional community farm, my salvation was the library. There wasn’t much to do in that place, but my library card made it possible for me to get books to read during the long hot days. I disappeared into the cool basement, where I could avoid weeding, and read. I read all of Pat Conroy’s books, and all of Anna Quindlen’s fiction. That was the summer I began to realize there was a world of enjoyable modern fiction outside of my little Christian realm.
The first summer I spent in Lancaster I got a library card for the local library, and I’ve used it ever since. I long ago lost the actual card, but they still have my name and I can check out books with my photo ID. During the summer of 2001 I read all Margaret Atwood’s books; Lancaster Library has kept me supplied with Sue Miller and Wallace Stegner and Douglas Coupland and Susan Howatch and probably a lot of other authors I’m forgetting.
And just recently I’ve been obsessed with the TV series Six Feet Under, only to discover that Blockbuster doesn’t have Seasons 4 or 5. (After I spent $$ on Seasons 2 & 3 and I CAN’T STOP WATCHING.)
Guess who came through for me again? For free? The library!
Seriously, there’s a place to check out books and read them, a place with info and computers and DVDs and audio books (granted, still all on cassette) and it’s FREE? So freaking amazing, and so much a part of a time when civic education was seen as important. (Imagine trying to get a library started these days . . .)
I have my issues with a lot about this country, but good grief, thinking about this makes me love America.*
*Having this statement on record will now guarantee that I can never run for public office.
The first book I ever checked out was The Bobbsey Twins at Pilgrim Rock. Or rather, my mom helped me find and check it out. I was four, and I can still picture where it was on the shelf. We went back to that library often, and I knew everything about the kids’ book room (and later the young adult area).
I can still remember spending every trip digging for the newest Babysitters Club books . . . checking the paperback racks (those spinny wire ones) and this big pile of books that were on a lower shelf for some reason. It was like a treasure hunt—and I would occasionally be rewarded. Oh, the excitement of a Babysitters’ Club I hadn’t yet read! (I did also occasionally read quality literature.)
One of the first things I do when I end up in a new place is go to the library. In London, where I spent the second semester of my freshman year, I was able to get a card from the local library, after proving that I was actually residing in Highbury temporarily. Just a quick walk across the Highbury Fields, a quick look around to acquaint myself with the layout, and I was ready to go. I devoured Catherine Cookson that semester; every week I would take a whole stack back to my room to read.
In Kansas, the summer I spent six weeks on an intentional community farm, my salvation was the library. There wasn’t much to do in that place, but my library card made it possible for me to get books to read during the long hot days. I disappeared into the cool basement, where I could avoid weeding, and read. I read all of Pat Conroy’s books, and all of Anna Quindlen’s fiction. That was the summer I began to realize there was a world of enjoyable modern fiction outside of my little Christian realm.
The first summer I spent in Lancaster I got a library card for the local library, and I’ve used it ever since. I long ago lost the actual card, but they still have my name and I can check out books with my photo ID. During the summer of 2001 I read all Margaret Atwood’s books; Lancaster Library has kept me supplied with Sue Miller and Wallace Stegner and Douglas Coupland and Susan Howatch and probably a lot of other authors I’m forgetting.
And just recently I’ve been obsessed with the TV series Six Feet Under, only to discover that Blockbuster doesn’t have Seasons 4 or 5. (After I spent $$ on Seasons 2 & 3 and I CAN’T STOP WATCHING.)
Guess who came through for me again? For free? The library!
Seriously, there’s a place to check out books and read them, a place with info and computers and DVDs and audio books (granted, still all on cassette) and it’s FREE? So freaking amazing, and so much a part of a time when civic education was seen as important. (Imagine trying to get a library started these days . . .)
I have my issues with a lot about this country, but good grief, thinking about this makes me love America.*
*Having this statement on record will now guarantee that I can never run for public office.
Labels: I like books
posted by Melanie at 4:44 PM
