Sue MacLeod's Blog

It’s a birdhouse … it’s a mailbox … it’s a … library

It was late at night and I was packing for a long train trip—from Austin back to Toronto—and realized I didn’t have a book. The stores were closed. Disaster.

My friend (who was flying back) suggested we visit a front yard we’d passed earlier, with a structure that looked like a cross between a birdhouse and a dollhouse, stocked with books. There’d been no signage. At this point, I was hoping it would be okay to take one. No, I was ready to assume so.

Streetlights are at a minimum in Austin. So there I stood, with flashlight in hand while a nearby dog barked steadily, sifting through a small but varied assortment of books, all in great condition. I chose Annie Proulx’s novel That Old Ace in the Hole—and had great company all the way to Chicago.

I’ve since learned that the quirky little structure is part of an international movement called Little Free Libraries. They operate on a policy of take one when you want, leave one when you can. A quick online search took me to some articles and the movement’s home page, which shows a world map of such libraries and lots of great photos. I also found a video online of someone building a Little Free Library, and, sad to say, an article about one American town that has seen fit to ban them.

The photo here is of a Little Free Library I have since discovered in Toronto, in Parkdale. It’s less pristine and orderly than the one in Austin—more a jumble of books, some of them pretty worn. But these unofficial libraries don’t have to be uniform. It’s a movement—not a franchise.

The web gave me instant information about the libraries, and has no doubt helped them to spread. At the same time, having to find that book, and the act of choosing it by flashlight from a small collection that someone had bothered to make available, became part of my trip to Austin. Downloading something to a tablet, for all its advantages, doesn’t give you much by way of experience.

Tangible. Digital. Ease of access. The added specialness when you have to search for something. Can we hold all of this at the same time? These were thoughts to mull over when I put Annie Proulx aside and just gazed out the window as the Amtrak train rolled by such places as Normal, Illinois. Whatever Normal is, and will be.

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