The Lives of the Libraries in Our LivesbyLauren RobertsOne of my favorite memories connected with the public library happened at a very difficult time in my life. It was about 13 or 14 years ago. I was unemployed, not for the first time, and had been trying to get a decent job for months. Applications constantly littered my dining table. Repeatedly dressing up to undergo interviews that ranged from brief disappointments to lengthy ones laden with unfulfilled promise left me feeling drained and depressed.Without a steady income I could not afford to indulge my book habit, which has always been one of my passions and relaxations. I love not only reading books, but owning them, talking about them, learning about new ones, browsing bookstores. Then, at the height of my self-pity, I took myself to the Santa Barbara public library’s main branch. Though I had been a longtime member and regularly borrowed books, this particular day stands out. I entered the lobby, the main desk on my left, the children’s section past the stairs on my right. Just ahead was the central area where two freestanding shelves heralded new arrivals. Beyond those was the reference desk. I headed to New Arrivals (nonfiction), bent my head and was perusing the titles when I was struck with a thought so strong, sudden and unexpected that I gasped and thrust out my hand to steady myself against the bookcase. These reactions caused a woman next to me to inquire if I was all right. I nodded, still stunned, unable to answer for a moment. Then I took a deep breath, and began to look slowly around at what had revealed itself to me with a sledgehammer effect: These books are all mine and they are all free! It was one of those moments when something you have long known smacks you in the face with the enormity of its importance. Suddenly I wasn’t poor, I wasn’t without books. I had a huge library that possessed (or could get) any book I wanted for free. That brief thought was so powerful, so staggering in its implications that I have never forgotten its exact phraseology. It changed my life because it changed my perception of it. And from that time on, whenever I enter a public library, I pause in the lobby for just a moment to say audibly but softly to my consciousness and to the library, “Thank you.” If you have grown up with public libraries, you can probably relate to this in some way. Maybe you remember your first library card or the first time you took out a book or maybe even the time a librarian shushed you or, in the ultimate humiliation, told you a book was too old for you. Maybe you grew up as I did with card catalog systems, now fondly remembered if not particularly missed. Certainly, reference librarians played a large role in my student papers, their skill at helping me find what I needed almost magical. (I still wonder if there isn’t anything a reference librarian either doesn’t know or can’t find out, and I view them with the same level of awe that Zeus would inspire in me.) It’s a deep affection I possess for public libraries and librarians. I support them as much as is financially possible. I find it outrageous that a ballot proposition to increase their funding (and for so little out of each taxpayer’s pocket!) during the latest election failed in my town where writers and aspiring writers abound. Not by much, but it failed. I still can’t believe it. The libraries in Salinas valley are suffering far worse. I simply cannot imagine that the wealthy of Carmel and Monterey and surrounding areas, and the city leaders of Salinas believe the libraries that help educate and improve the lives of the farmworkers in their valley don’t deserve their support. But apparently they don’t. And this—in John Steinbeck country. Thomas Krichel, in a recent lecture, noted that for libraries to flourish three conditions need to be present: centralization, economic growth and political stability. The absence of even one of them has a powerfully negative effect. It is when the economy gets tight that public libraries suffer. Voters, as those in the Salinas valley and in my hometown among others show, often reject additional funding if it means money out of their pockets. The attitude seems to be that libraries are good and necessary, but “I” shouldn’t have to pay for them. Yet librarians believe with good reason that when the economy goes down, library use goes up. In 2002, a study showed that at the 25 largest public libraries serving populations of one million or more, circulation increased significantly during the time of the latest economic recession. According to the American Library Association’s 2005 statistics, there are an estimated 117,664 libraries of all kinds (public; academic; school, both public and private; specialized ones such as medical or law; Armed Forces ones; and government ones). Of those, 9,211 are public libraries. In March of 2002, the ALA conducted a survey to measure the public’s usage and perception of public libraries. The results showed that:
People need libraries. Not only our culture, but our country depends on having an educated population. With many people unable to afford books (the average cost of a hardcover is approaching $30, and $35 is not unknown), the public library is the foundation for ensuring our fellow citizens have access to common knowledge. When such access becomes more a matter of who can pay for it, then the divide between those who “have” and those who don’t splits along wider, more dangerous lines than the merely economic. The country puts itself at risk of having a large proportion of the population cut out of its lifeblood. A population cut off will initially find its satisfaction in consumerism, in cheap entertainment and in mind-altering diversions, but ultimately it will destroy the balance that is democracy and citizenship. And that cannot be good for anyone. When the first public library was established in Peterborough, New Hampshire, in 1833, it established the guidelines that have governed public libraries ever since: free, open without restrictions to the public and supported through public money. Certainly my experience proved how valuable my city’s library was to me. But it goes far beyond that one time. I cannot imagine how different my life would be if the public library had not been there for me as a child, if I had not learned to appreciate its importance. I hope that all those who have at one time or another been helped by a library or a librarian will take the time to say thanks for what is and what will hopefully continue to be. Almost since her childhood days of Mother Goose, Lauren has been giving her opinion on books to anyone who will listen. That “talent” eventually took her out of magazine writing and into book reviewing in 2000 for an online review site where she cut her teeth (as well as a few authors). Stints as book editor for her local newspaper and contributing editor to Booklist and Bookmarks magazines have reinforced her belief that she has interesting things to say about books. Lauren shares her home with several significant others including three cats, 750 bookmarks and nearly 1,000 books that, whether previously read or not, constitute her to-be-read stack. She can be reached at This e-mail address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it |