This open letter was written in honor of National Library Lovers’ Month.
The library of my childhood is a small brick building that housed a world of opportunity for me. I can still remember signing my name on the back of my first library card, the weekly story times, and the early aughts desktop computers where my little fingers began to learn how to type. It was walking distance from the home I grew up in, and it never left me bored (as Arthur Read so wisely said, “having fun isn’t hard when you’ve got a library card”).
Indeed, the cartoon aardvark wasn’t the only fictional character who helped me romanticize the joys of the library and instill in me a lifelong love of these essential public institutions. In Roald Dahl’s Matilda, the titular character finds refuge in the library: Every day, she spends “two glorious hours sitting quietly by herself in a cozy corner devouring one book after another.” That is, until the kind librarian informs her that she can check out the books and take them home.
Perhaps unsurprisingly, Matilda is the answer I give when asked the impossible question, “What’s your favorite book?” But that question is probably only so impossible for me because I love books — and I love books because of the library.
My story of falling and staying in love with libraries is not an entirely unique one. There are more than 17,000 public libraries in the United States, and they’re used by nearly two-thirds of Americans over age 16, per a 2013 survey from the Pew Research Center.
Lindsay Laren was homeschooled as a child, and credits access to library books with helping her “develop deeper empathy, curiosity, and the ability to see beyond my own narrow perspective.”
She told me via email: “I read real and fictional stories of children who survived and endured poverty, terminal illness, slavery, the Holocaust, loss of parents and family — even reading fun and lighthearted stories like ones about children in big cities, children with 10 siblings, children living on farms, children who spoke different languages from me, rich children, poor children, children with single parents, and so much more — they all opened windows to a deeper understanding of the world that I never would have been exposed to otherwise.”
Laren has worked as a librarian for the last 15 years, currently serving as the assistant commissioner of collections, content, and access for the Chicago Public Library, which is now my local system.
My CPL branch is just a few blocks away from where I live. I go there regularly to pick up a steady stream of books — there’s even a platform for bulk loans that’s perfect for my book club. I also visit the library to print and make copies, rent out museum passes, and charge my phone when it dies unexpectedly. It’s my polling location, where I’ve lined up alongside my fellow community members to exercise our civil duty and make our voices heard.
And for my unhoused neighbors who aren’t so lucky to have a home or apartment a short walk away, the library is a warm (or cool, in the summer) place where they can go. I see people from all walks of life there, and they’re all welcomed — the library is for “everyone,” as Laren told me.
“In my career I have been able to help people create an email address and learn to navigate job search or benefit sites that were previously overwhelming to them, and saw those people return to let me know they got a job or finally received VA benefits because the library helped them,” she said.
“I have seen 20-year-olds befriend 80-year-olds at a knitting program,” Laren continued. “I have seen entire communities have a once-in-a-lifetime eclipse viewing experience together at their library. These experiences are not about me, or even about the amazing people I have gotten to work with in my time as a librarian, but they’re about how the library is there as a way for people to connect with each other.”
Right now, I’m No. 83 on the list to check out The Correspondent, a hit novel that made it onto quite a few best-of roundups last year. When I first put it on hold, I was No. 640. Sure, I could have ordered it online months ago with just one click, and it would have been at my door in a day or two.
But instead, I’ve waited patiently and read other books in the meantime. When I finally get the call that my copy is ready, it’ll force me to go on a walk through my neighborhood and interact with the librarian — and it’ll be all the more exciting to finally dive in and learn what all the buzz is about.
And that’s why I love the library.
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