The public library is one of life’s last remaining miracles
It feels like Eid has come early every single time I check out a pile of books
I can’t think of any other establishment where you can walk in, browse for as long as you like, pick up whatever takes your fancy and leave without paying. Yet at the library, it’s actively encouraged. Anywhere else you’d be arrested.
As children, my siblings and I would frequent our local library every week as a treat. Unless we’d misbehaved terribly, Friday evenings were for returning old books and maxing out our cards with new ones. The summer my sister and I read Bellshill Library’s entire tween catalogue is an accomplishment we still brag about to this day.
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We were kept so thoroughly entertained that we didn’t fully realise just how tight money had been at home until we were older. Family holidays to Spain or Florida weren’t possible, but trips to Narnia or Stoneybrook with The Baby-Sitters Club were.
As an adolescent I was constantly being introduced to people, places and concepts far beyond my small, working-class suburb. While library visits became monthly as a busy adult, not much else changed. Then the pandemic hit, libraries closed and when they reopened I somehow forgot to return.
I began to think of libraries in terms of nostalgia, the very idea of them shelved in the history section of my brain. It didn’t help that, owing to funding and service cuts, branches were being closed across the UK. Here in Scotland, many that faced closure were in already deprived areas. Some were successfully saved after public outcry, but others were less lucky.
To be quite honest, it wasn’t until late last year that I truly began to feel the loss.
Since straying from the library, every book became a careful and considered purchase. I was spending almost as much time trying to choose books as I was actually reading them. After a while, it just became easier to pick up the latest popular title and call it a day. The point was to avoid disappointment, yet that was often the end result. Eventually, it was hard to ignore that much like my attention span, my consciously cultivated taste was being eroded.
Instead of complaining, I decided it was time to do something about it. So, early this year I started off the morning of my birthday inside the warm basement library of the Glasgow Gallery of Modern Art where I finally signed up for a new library card.
Taking my time to browse was relaxing. I’d forgotten how much I used to love combing through the shelves, skimming blurb after blurb, adding books to my pile until my arms strained to keep hold of them.
I checked out with as many books as my tote bag could hold without killing my shoulder. All I could think on the train home was, “How is all of this free?”
Libraries give so much yet ask for almost nothing in return. The entire concept is absurdly generous. Beyond the abundance of books, magazines and media, the library itself is one of our last third spaces. A resource that evolves alongside its community, offering everything from book clubs and craft sessions to digital literacy courses. In an era of creeping loneliness, it also functions as a social hub.
Why we don’t build statues celebrating librarians, I don’t know.
Every time a book I’ve chosen on a whim becomes an unexpected favourite, the whole library experience proves magical. Being able to freely and frequently follow my curiosity through the maze of shelves might be a simple pleasure but it feels like a luxury. Especially as a big part of reading is discovering what you don’t like as well as what you do. If I pick something up, read a few chapters and recognise it’s not for me, I lose nothing. It doesn’t become yet another dud purchase or sit on my “did not finish” shelf haunting me.
My library visits haven’t resulted in me buying fewer books. I probably purchase about the same amount, but now the success rate is much higher. When I fall in love with a book I must own a physical copy. Since the library allows me to read more, I fall in love more.
With the library firmly back in my life, I’ve managed to finish 107 books since 30 January, simply by reading every single day. I actively trained myself to reach for a book instead of automatically doomscrolling and, after a period of painful weaning, the habit became second nature again, just like when I was a kid.
Now, I live for the moments when my daily scroll through the library apps reveals
an unexpected drop of new books. It feels like Eid has come early every single time.
I had taken the library for granted. I felt entitled to it. Now it leaves me somewhat in awe.
It is genuinely alarming to even think about the possibility of losing something so valuable. As a society, we really can’t risk easy access to books becoming just another pleasure only the wealthy can afford. I still can’t quite believe that one wee laminated rectangle can open up so many worlds.
