In the late 30s, becoming a woman had its perfect moment when Disney's Beauty and the Beast hit the big screen for the first time in 1991. This movie left a significant impression on me, and more than seeing Belle look at the library Beast built for her, there is no bigger part. The room itself is vast and wide with arched ceilings, shelves of books that require a ladder to reach, a ladder. We understand that the library is Belle's happy place. A refuge to escape the realities of everyday life and get lost in the world of storytelling and magic.
What is a happy place?
Over 30 years have passed since then, and I have yet to find a library like Belle's, but nevertheless, I have encountered very few things that I dislike. The library emerged as a cozy sanctuary throughout my childhood, adolescence, and adulthood. It was a place where loud readings after school (Roald Dahl's The Witches in different voices for each witch marketing), memorizing every magazine I laid my hands on. And obtaining a special permit to borrow restricted books in college feels subtly important.
Of course, it goes beyond books. There is something about walking through the doors of a library that changes the atmosphere. I have always enjoyed peace and quiet, and except for the children's section, the library has always been a place where I can find solace. This is a significant part of the power of staying. While reading may have been rejected, the chaos of modern life has not, and people flock to these silent hubs for the opportunity to think and work without the noise we encounter elsewhere.
So, when I discovered my passion for writing as an unemployed person and wanting to write formally, the Brooklyn Public Library was an obvious choice. I packed my tote with a laptop, notebooks, a reusable coffee cup to sign virtues, and headed there.
Torn and peaceful and quiet
Not five minutes after settling into the fake wood carrel on the upper level of the building, a fellow patron started coughing. Soon, another was on the phone, and a third sat down with me to unpack lunch from a crinkled Starbucks paper bag. She was bending over soup when a man started turning a few tables away. The slumper said "unbelievable," especially when no one shouted. That's how it went.
Most recent visits to the library have been marked by versions of this experience. My initial reaction was one of frustration. I complained to anyone who would listen about how people had lost all sense of etiquette in every way. I wrote something mourning the lost golden age, and racked my brain for a play on the word torn for an essay. (I still haven't figured it out - suggestions welcome). To handle the kind of foundation that can build an essay, I read what others had to say about the state of the library.
2.0 (24) Connection
There were some recurring themes. A place to increase literacy, support education, and nurture community. But above all, or perhaps emphasizing those things, is connection. The library is a space for connecting ideas, stories, and people.
Of course, now that we are always connected, libraries are facing an identity crisis. They can't do what they traditionally should do because knowledge has been in the cloud for so long. We no longer go to the library to browse the stacks or seek help from local librarians. Instead, we go there with a desire to adjust to laptops, headphones, and the surrounding environment. This was, after all, my experience, and I was missing everything I loved about the library as a child by using it as a study hall alone. I never saw the magical elements that made it special in how it should serve my current needs.
I'm not sure how this series will unfold. I've committed to visiting the library for a hundred days, and none of them will have an agenda. I want to go beyond the ideas on the screen and reconnect with ideas. The plan is to observe my surroundings. Get lost in the stacks, see what I've missed, rediscover the magic. And of course, write it all down and put it on the internet.
This article is the first in an ongoing 100-benefiting series about the life of the library. Here are a few highlights so far. I've included both the most notable (first grouping) and my own personal favorites (second).
4/100: Blue Lipstick and Communists
10/100: An Ambiguous Perfect Anecdote
14/100: Bob Ross Drinks Coffee
24/100: Silent Disco
11/100: Love and Atheism
21/100: Afternoon Shifts
25/100: The End of Beginnings
Thank you for reading!!!