Library Evolution

The only blog prompts that captured my attention (Do you really want me to list my 3 favorite squash recipes? Do I even have that many squash recipes?) had to do with libraries. But I didn't really see a point in detailing my last library visit or describe my local library. What did come to mind was how my library visits have changed over the years.

I have solid memories of visiting my local library when I was learning/had learned to read. It was a building situated on the Intracoastal Waterway, barrier islands and the Atlantic Ocean just beyond. I have a vague sense of the building smelling of worn carpet, metal shelves, old paper and damp - in the best way possible.

Before I could read books on my own, I'd carefully examine the shelves closest to whatever my dad was looking and found a treasure early on: a book on the art of Walt Disney's animation. I'd flip through the book, practically as long as I was tall, and beg whatever family member walking by to read the pages to me. Reading technical drawing info and the minutia of movie making to a preschooler who was really wanting a story did NOT make this book a treasure to anyone but myself, no matter how many times I'd check out the book. At some point, my parents wouldn't let me take it home anymore so I'd visit with it at the library until one day its hold on me was forgotten.

Instead, I'd pour through the offerings of the children's section. I have a visceral memory of a Dr. Seuss compilation, from the texture of the pockmarked cover to the shade of green ink used in the illustrations. I could, if the building and section were recreated in exact 1980's detail, take you to the exact spot on the shelf where the book resided. Even once I outgrew Seuss, I'd occasionally check to see if it was in or not. When not visiting with old friends, I'd start from one end or the other of the children's fiction section and carefully search for my next favorite read. By the time I aged out of the children's section (a heartbreak I'm not sure I'll ever be entirely over) I had gone through every ghost story I could get my hands on and found the adult's sci-fi/fantasy paperback section a poor substitute.

The library of my early teenage years, several hundred inland miles away from my wonder-filled childhood library, was all about exploring. We'd go as a family still, but now I could walk to the library after school. Alone, I'd go through every section to test out subjects and authors completely unknown to me. Books on slang and word origin, foreign language, twisted family tales (Did the librarians have a clue what happened in the V.C. Andrews books they put on prominent display?!), sinister horror, and yes that most taboo of all and seemingly scary subject matter for the average American white male, romance novels. In the second story of that library, a simple building from any small town USA Main St, I read about things that practically curled my hair. It's really no wonder I've read so few "classics" - how do you get through a book about a man obsessed with a whale when you could be reading about anything lurid, horrific, or like, just obsess over dream dictionaries. Totally.

Gawd, I think I'd rather chew off my own ankle than be a teenager again.

My adult library-going is the composite of them all. I can still safely try out new-to-me topics and authors free of charge (Funding the local public library? Take.my.freaking.tax.dollars!) and if I see a book on the shelves I've read, I still kind of have a "hello, old friend" moment. But more often than not, I've searched for and requested the books I want to read, only coming in to pick them up in one shot and return what I've (hopefully) read. I don't linger over the shelves, instead browsing on-line. I get seemingly endless suggestions from outside sources and come in with a list. I do cast a longing glance at the children's section and reminisce about the glide of the card catalog when I pass by the computers.

Sadly, I learned earlier this year that my first library (building and all) is gone. I had such a strong reaction to this, you'd have thought someone died.