Wednesday, May 18, 2011

I Walk the Corner to the Rubble that Used to be a Library, Line Up to the Mind Cemetery Now

Charles Simic:

I don’t know of anything more disheartening than the sight of a shut down library. No matter how modest its building or its holdings, in many parts of this country a municipal library is often the only place where books in large number on every imaginable subject can be found, where both grownups and children are welcome to sit and read in peace, free of whatever distractions and aggravations await them outside. Like many other Americans of my generation, I owe much of my knowledge to thousands of books I withdrew from public libraries over a lifetime. I remember the sense of awe I felt as a teenager when I realized I could roam among the shelves, take down any book I wanted, examine it at my leisure at one of the library tables, and if it struck my fancy, bring it home. Not just some thriller or serious novel, but also big art books and recordings of everything from jazz to operas and symphonies.

...I heard some politician say recently that closing libraries is no big deal, since the kids now have the Internet to do their reading and school work. It’s not the same thing. As any teacher who recalls the time when students still went to libraries and read books could tell him, study and reflection come more naturally to someone bent over a book. Seeing others, too, absorbed in their reading, holding up or pressing down on different-looking books, some intimidating in their appearance, others inviting, makes one a participant in one of the oldest and most noble human activities. Yes, reading books is a slow, time-consuming, and often tedious process. In comparison, surfing the Internet is a quick, distracting activity in which one searches for a specific subject, finds it, and then reads about it—often by skipping a great deal of material and absorbing only pertinent fragments. Books require patience, sustained attention to what is on the page, and frequent rest periods for reverie, so that the meaning of what we are reading settles in and makes its full impact.

How many book lovers among the young has the Internet produced? Far fewer, I suspect, than the millions libraries have turned out over the last hundred years. Their slow disappearance is a tragedy, not just for those impoverished towns and cities, but for everyone everywhere terrified at the thought of a country without libraries.

One of the best things about childhood for me was the amount of time I spent in libraries. I was just thinking about downtown Charlottesville this afternoon, with all its independent used bookstores and the two libraries I've been going to since I was a kid (plus the ones on UVa campus). That intellectual atmosphere means even more to me now that I don't take it for granted.

Funny story: when I went with my mom to get my own library card in my late teens, I got out my wallet when we got to the desk with the books we were checking out. She and the librarian looked at me quizzically. "Don't we have to pay for them?" They burst out laughing. My dad had never, ever been able to return books on time, so every time we went back, he had to pay a late fee. I grew up assuming there was a price to be paid here like everywhere else.