These days when I go to the library its rarely alone. I’ve taken my full-of-beans son, and once he’s chosen his three books (I keep it to a number I can keep track of in the house whilst he’s still pre-reading age) he just wants to use the computer and get out. So I do less browsing than I once did and more grabbing books off stands that look vaguely interesting.
Its not terribly surprising that the local library has a few copies of this book written to make the case for public libraries and to fund-raise for them. My heart always sinks when I think about the impact austerity has had on this tremendous resource, which gives everyone access to more books they can ever read and free use of technology.
The Library Book touches on all of this. It runs from the value of libraries to individuals and communities, to fantasy authors imagining worlds within the library. A series of essays and short stories, its light and interesting, even if the trigger for its existence is somewhat depressing.
In a library… a book is only a starting point.