Libraries Are Neat

It is not a controversial opinion to say that libraries are pretty great. I’d be interested to know just how large a proportion of my life I’ve spent in various libraries, shamelessly plundering the shelves of every bit of fantasy and SF I could reach – and indeed how much time I’ve spent reading those books afterwards. It’s probably an awful lot.

And the great thing about libraries versus bookshops – or at least new bookshops, stocking stuff that’s either recently released or just consistently selling well – is that there’s so much there. So many older books, so many weird, niche books, so much that you wouldn’t ever see for sale new. And sure, about half the time you find a really interesting book that’s number 3 in a series without any of the other volumes there, to great frustration – but for every book like that there’s an absolute gem you stumble across. I first found the Riftwarwhen I happened across it in the adult fantasy spinner at Ludlow Library. I picked up The Colour of Magic on a whim in another library, and then the Discworld was laid out before me. So many great series, so many wonderful books, found only because I was in a space so packed with words that the weight of them warps space.

I spend less time hanging out in libraries these days. That doesn’t mean I don’t visit them – but it’s usually a stop on a longer journey, to browse a bit and then head home. And with the convenience of my reliable* old Kindle, gone are the days when my sister and I would totter out of the library with a pile of about 14 books each to take with us on our summer holidays, to the despair of the parents who had to fit them all in our packing.

When I do go to the library, though, it’s always nice. It’s especially nice to see kids happily reading, like I used to. Just the other morning I was preceded into the library by a small fleet of children on a school visit, all eagerly learning how the book return system worked. I wonder what they’re all reading. I wonder what hidden gems they might stumble across.

Maybe something like this.

I wonder if they’ll stumble across me. For, dear reader, I have managed to get a book into the library. No longer my local library, Archway Library in north London was nice enough to take The Blackbird and the Ghost way back in 2019 and actually shelve it. (Unlike my current local library, which, while excellent, took my books for review over a year ago and refuses to answer any of my emails.) Despite still working nearby I haven’t visited Archway Library in years, as it’s frustratingly open only when I am actually at work. But I popped by the other day. I saw Blackbird on the shelves in person for the first time. (I knew it was there from the catalogue, I just hadn’t laid eyes on it.) Tucked in next to Danielle Steel, ready to be read.

I’ve no idea if anyone has read it in the library. But they might. They might have already done it, in the last few days. Some unsuspecting person might have picked up Blackbird and gone ‘eh, worth a go.’ They might hate it. They might love it. But they’ll read it.

And they’ll be more likely to read something of mine if (and hopefully when, given the library has already taken Blackbird) they see an entire block of my books sitting there on the shelf. Islington Libraries now have my entire current corpus of books for approval, and with a bit of luck they’ll be as kind as they were 4 years ago and let a former local boy have a spot on their shelves. Budge up, John Steinbeck, Ad Luna is a bit of a brick.

It’s one library in one city. It’s not much. But all it takes is one curious reader. I’m not writing high literature, I’m not writing genre classics. But that doesn’t mean that someone, some day, won’t find the same joy in finding something I wrote on a library shelf as I have so many times before.

*Ok, so the Book of Theseus is in its third incarnation now, but given it’s a nearly 15-year-old model that’s not bad going.